


The Spy and The Accountant

by hangoverhater



Series: The One With The Spies [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Blood, First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Ogling, Sarcasm, Slight pining, Swearing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, blatant sexual propositioning, breakfast food intolerance, only one named OC, orgasmic coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangoverhater/pseuds/hangoverhater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: how Iwaizumi's protection detail turned into something he never saw coming. </p><p>The story of how Iwaizumi and Oikawa met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Binoculars

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the longest fic I've written for this series. Or, about any ship/fandom at all. A bit over 20k words, so it's not long by 'AO3 standards', but it's certainly a milestone for me.  
> It's a complete work, but in the interest of editing, I'm posting it in chapters. I'll probably post all the chapters fairly quickly, because I'll forget to update if I make it a weekly-thing.
> 
> So, without further ado, please enjoy! :)

The binoculars were good. 

The one thing Iwaizumi Hajime appreciated about surveillance missions was the fact that he always got to choose between a pair of binoculars and a telescope. He always went for the binoculars, mainly because they were easier to grab if he had to leave in a hurry. But there were other advantages, too.

“Alright, Space Nerd, where are you…” he muttered, watching his target through aforementioned binoculars. Iwaizumi had to wonder why he hadn’t pulled the curtains in front of the window, especially when he walked around naked after showering. Then again, you really wouldn’t expect someone to be watching your sixth-floor apartment from a hotel across the street. 

The brown-haired man made an appearance, wearing clothes, to Iwaizumi’s slight disappointment. He seemed jittery. Had seemed jittery for the past three days, actually. Iwaizumi switched his communication device (a really rather uncomfortable little earwig) back online. 

“Remind me again why I’m on babysitting duty? And what’s with the suit, as if this isn’t uncomfortable enough already.”

At least the guy he’s watching is easy on the eyes. But he had a lot of alien stuff around. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

_“Don’t be silly, you love wearing suits, you’re wearing one now. You’re making sure Pierce’s men don’t get to him, the cops need him to testify. Anyway, Suga said the safehouse will be ready in a couple of hours.”_

Despite his boss’ claim, he did NOT like wearing suits. He didn’t understand what would’ve been so wrong about wearing his tactical gear, but as Daichi (in his infinite wisdom) had said, he had to ‘look like a businessman instead of an armed psychopath’ if he was going to stay in a classy place. As if he was going to even leave the room, for fuck’s sake.

“It’s going to take me a couple of hours to get there. Any reason I can’t just grab him and go already?”

_“Don’t rush Suga, you know you like it when he leaves you guns everywhere. Any sign of uninvited guests?”_

Iwaizumi looked down the street. “Negative, as far as I can tell.” He glanced down again, spotting a black car parking right in front of the apartment building. “Hold that thought.”  


He focused the binoculars to the shady looking characters exiting the car. “Three guests. One of them looks like the Russian guy from The Punisher.” (Jesus that’s a big dude.)

_“Get him out of there.”_

“Affirmative. Iwaizumi out,” he turned his comms off for the time being. He set the binoculars down and picked up his burner phone, dialing the number he’d memorized before accepting this stupid mission.

“Come on, pick up, pick up, Space Nerd,” he tapped his foot impatiently, grabbing the binoculars again. The three were already entering the building. Looking back up, he saw the young man pick up his cell phone and answer. 

_“Hello?”_

“Hi. Get to the roof now.”

_“Um, excuse me? Who is—“_

“There are three guys coming for you right now. Get out, and head to the roof right now,” Iwaizumi snapped, watching the man’s eyes widen. Damn, these were good binoculars. He gave himself a little pat on the back.

_“Who is this?”_

The man grabbed a jacket, his wallet, and what seemed to be his keys before finally moving out of the apartment. Iwaizumi couldn’t see him anymore, so he dropped the binoculars to his chair as he stood up and grabbed a duffel bag from the bed. “I’m the guy who’s gonna save your ass,” he finally replied.

He headed out of his room and took the elevator to the hotel’s roof. “Where are you?”

_“I’m almost to the roof. I don’t think anyone saw me.”_

“Good,” he said. Once he got through the service access door (kicking doors open always cheered him up), he headed to the eastern side of the building. “Once you get to the roof, lock the door and come to the side of the building that’s directly across the street from the hotel.”

He heard an agreeing sound from the man. Iwaizumi kneeled down, opening the duffel bag and removing the crossbow-shaped device within. He stood up just as the man appeared across the street. Iwaizumi gave a small wave with the device. “Hi,” he said to the phone. “You might wanna duck.” He hung up, pocketing the phone without hearing what the man replied.

He did duck. Iwaizumi grinned. He liked when his instructions were followed.

He aimed and fired. A wire shot out and was subsequently attached to the wall next to the door by a small grappling hook. Iwaizumi gave it a small tug, deeming it sturdy enough. He attached the other end of the wire to a hook he’d installed three days ago (it is not paranoia if they’re really out to get you) and hooked the bow onto the wire. He flipped his comms back on. “Hey, Daichi?”

_“Yeah?”_

“Remember when you said ‘don’t bother bringing the grappling thing, you’re not going to need it’?”

_“…Iwaizumi, no.”_

“Iwaizumi, yes,” he grinned, and promptly launched himself off the roof, letting gravity carry him all the way across the street.

He landed next to the terrified young man. Upon closer inspection, the man was probably the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. (Holy shit.)

“Oh my god! What the hell! No one does stuff like that!” The man shrieked.

Iwaizumi’s reaction was to arch an eyebrow. “Um,” he pointed to the wire. “Well, clearly, I just did. Look, we don’t have time here, so come on,” he grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him off the ground. 

“What! Oh, hell no, I’m not doing that!” he argued, brown eyes wide with disbelief. 

“Yes, you are,” Iwaizumi nodded, grabbing the man’s belt with no warning. He ignored the wailing protests and the flailing arms and used a large carabiner to attach their belts together. “Sorry about the personal space violation. Oikawa, was it?”

Their eyes met briefly. Oikawa nodded. Iwaizumi gave him a small, reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine. I’ll protect you. Just hold on tight, alright?”

“A-alright,” Oikawa said, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck. “If I die, I’ll kill you.”

Iwaizumi snickered. “I better not fuck this up, then.”

Someone started banging on the door behind them. Iwaizumi glanced back before grabbing the gun. He looked back at Oikawa. “We’ll run and jump on three. One, two, three!”

And just like that, they were flying. Oikawa gave a startled shout and hooked his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist as they glided over to the other rooftop. The second they were safely over, Iwaizumi let go and they fell to the hotel roof in a heap of limbs. To minimize probable bruising, Iwaizumi rolled them over on impact. 

Once he caught his breath again, he was laying on top of the very pale Oikawa. Iwaizumi grinned. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Oikawa stared at him. “Are you serious?! I think that nearly gave me a heart attack!” He smacked Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “I’m not doing that again, ever!”

Iwaizumi raised himself up enough to sneak a hand between them. Glancing up at Oikawa, he noted that the man’s cheeks were now a seriously cute shade of pink. “Well, here’s hoping you won’t have to,” he opened the carabiner and rolled off of Oikawa. “If you’re done having a heart attack, we should—“ 

They heard gunshots from the other roof, then the distinct sound of a door being slammed open. “Time to go,” Iwaizumi said, pointing at the door. “Stay down, and wait for me in the stairs.”

Oikawa crawled to the door, looking back at Iwaizumi as he reached it. “Go,” Iwaizumi hissed, taking out his pistol (the third child, the beautiful Glock 17) and clicking the safety off. Oikawa did as he was told, and snuck out to wait for him in the staircase. 

Iwaizumi was taking cover behind an air-vent. He glanced around, counting that two of the men were currently investigating the wire contraption. “Daichi. Mind if I shoot first and ask questions later?”

_“Oikawa’s your priority.”_

“Thanks,” he said, aiming carefully before shooting one of the men down. He adjusted his aim and shot the other one as well within seconds. Once he was sure the third man wasn’t hiding somewhere, he stood up and went to the wire. He pressed a button in the bow, and the wire dislodged itself from the opposite wall. He waited for the wire to coil around itself before detaching the weapon and the hook from the wall, and packed everything back into the duffel bag.

Oikawa was sitting on the stairs when Iwaizumi stepped in. He glanced up nervously. 

Iwaizumi nodded towards the stairs. “We’ll stop at my room before we go.”

Oikawa followed him quietly, until he stopped suddenly. Iwaizumi glanced back at him. “Come on, we don’t have time for—“

“Who are you? Why were you watching me? And don’t say you weren’t, because how else would you have known about those people?” Oikawa demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Iwaizumi could already feel a headache forming in the back of his head. “Look, I’m just trying to—“

“Answer me!”

They stared at each other. Oikawa stood his ground admirably for a guy who’d only five minutes ago complained about having a heart attack. 

Iwaizumi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why exactly they want you, but I’m supposed to keep that from happening. Now, I’m very good at what I do, so I suggest you shut the fuck up and do as I say.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes with a huff. “Fine. But I’ll be expecting answers later.”

_“He seems like a nice guy.”_

“Shut the fuck up,” Iwaizumi growled to Daichi, turning on his heels and striding towards his room. Oikawa was right behind him. 

The minute Iwaizumi opened the door to his room, his eyes widened and he flung his arm back. He caught Oikawa by his jacket and shoved the man to the ground before catching a bottle to the head and dropping the duffel bag. (Should’ve fucking known the huge fucktard was hiding somewhere.) 

He fumbled around his belt for his pistol, before remembering he’d packed it into the duffel bag along with the rest of the gear. (Fucking amateur.)

He dodged a punch and kicked out, catching the guy in the gut. “The bag!” He shouted to Oikawa, who’d wisely taken cover against the wall next to the door. He grabbed the room’s phone and hit the guy in the head with it.

The guy barely flinched. Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck are you made of?!”

“What?!” Oikawa hissed, grabbing the duffel bag and pulling it closer to him. He opened the bag. “What am I looking for?!”

“My gun!” Iwaizumi took a vicious uppercut to his jaw and was rudely thrown across the room and into a mirror. He groaned, feeling the shards cut his hands as he pushed himself off the floor and back up. 

The guy was on him in a flash. Much to Iwaizumi’s amazement and mild terror, the guy picked him up by the neck single-handedly, and held him high enough for his feet to leave the floor. 

Iwaizumi grunted. He grabbed the guy’s shoulders and brought his knees in, bracing his feet against the guy’s chest. He gave a mental thanks to all the hours he’s spent doing crunches and sit-ups as he used the wall as leverage and shoved the guy off of him. He fell down on his ass with a breathy groan. 

“Here!” 

He looked up, and caught the gun Oikawa tossed him. Just in time. He fired three shots into the big guy and watched as he went down and stayed there. 

He sighed in relief. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered and let Oikawa help him up. He glanced at the guy on the floor briefly before looking at Oikawa. “Grab the bag, I’ll get the rest of the stuff.”

“Right,” Oikawa nodded. Iwaizumi put the safety back on and tucked the Glock into the back of his pants before grabbing his laptop and the binoculars and stuffing them into another duffel bag. 

“Let’s go.”

 

They got to the hotel’s parking hall without any further complications. Iwaizumi did a quick check to see if there were any explosives attached to the car before opening the doors and making sure Oikawa got in. Once they were driving away from the city, Iwaizumi reached into his ear and pulled out his damaged earwig. So that explained why he hadn’t been hearing anything from Daichi’s end. He glanced at Oikawa, who was sitting next to him. The man was obviously nervous, and Iwaizumi couldn’t exactly blame him. 

“You okay?” He asked, fiddling with the radio while at it. 

Oikawa looked at him incredulously. “You… You’re the one bleeding, and you’re asking ME if I’m okay?” He stammered. 

Iwaizumi paused, then nodded. Oikawa covered his face with his hands. “Are you insane?” He mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Jury’s still out,” Iwaizumi said slowly, “but like I said: I’m very good at what I do.” He kept fiddling with the radio until he found the station he’d been looking for. “There’s a phone in the glove compartment, grab that me?”

Oikawa opened the glove compartment and stared into it. “There’s two phones here, which one do you want? And there's a gun. And…” he picked out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Cigarettes.”

“The one with the duct tape on the back. Is there a lighter?”

After handing the phone to Iwaizumi, Oikawa dug around and managed to find a small plastic lighter. “Do you mind if I light one up?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Not at all. Light one up for me as well?” He asked, tapping away on the phone before putting it to his ear. 

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi from the corner of his eyes as he light one up and handed it to the black-haired man, who nodded gratefully. 

“Thanks… Daichi?”

As he light up a cigarette for himself, Oikawa tried to keep his hands from shaking. His heart was pounding, and he felt cold all over. The events of the past half an hour seemed to finally catch up with him, and he came to the startling realization that he had almost died. He nearly dropped his cigarette into his lap. 

Iwaizumi’s hand shot out, catching the butt of it before it fell. He glanced at Oikawa, giving the cigarette back to him. He let the phone drop to his leg in favour of removing his suit jacket and handing it to Oikawa.

Oikawa frowned, taking the jacket slowly. Iwaizumi shrugged. “You looked cold,” he murmured, putting the phone back to his ear to continue his conversation.

_“What happened to your comms?”_

“Remember how I told you one of those guys looked like the Russian guy? Yeah. He happened. He was in my room. I think we might have a rat in the house. Can you get someone on that?”

_“Shit. Yeah, I’ll get Akaashi on that. Kuroo and Bokuto are on Pierce-detail. How’s Oikawa?”_

Iwaizumi glanced at the man sitting in the passenger seat, observing him. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “He’s fine. Shaken up, but who wouldn’t be.” 

_“And you? I can hear you smoking, you know. Suga would be disappointed.”_

“Your ears pick up the weirdest things.” Iwaizumi snorted, blowing smoke out. “Also, I’m fine. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

Oikawa burrowed under the surprisingly warm jacket, inhaling deeply. The faint scent was comforting. He didn’t feel so cold anymore.

Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa from the corner of his eye.

_“I seem to remember a certain someone saying he was fine, when he was actually bleeding out from a gunshot wound in a dirty alley in Marrakesh.”_

“Do not bring that up. Whatever. ETA in…” Iwaizumi glanced at his watch. “Three hours, tops…. Alright. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket. Oikawa looked at him curiously. 

“Where are we going?”

Iwaizumi glanced at him as he cracked open his window and threw out his cigarette butt. “There’s a safehouse we’ve prepped for you, about two hours out. Do you have your phone with you?"

“Yeah,” Oikawa nodded. 

“Throw it out the window.”

“Excuse me?” Oikawa’s jaw dropped.

“You heard me,” Iwaizumi said, pointing at the window. “Out with it.”

“I just bought it, for fuck’s sake!” Oikawa argued.

Iwaizumi sighed in annoyance. “Look, do you want Pierce to be able to track you? ‘Cause that’s what’ll happen, if you don’t get rid of that thing.”

At the mention of Pierce, Oikawa paled, and wordlessly dug out his phone and threw it out the window.

Iwaizumi thought that was an interesting reaction. “So,” he started conversationally, “why does he want you dead?”

Anger flashed in Oikawa’s eyes as he crossed his arms across his chest, refusing to talk.

Iwaizumi didn’t think it was possible for a single person to cause this much eye-rolling. “Either you tell me, or I’ll have my colleagues dig up information about you so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“I’m an accountant,” Oikawa started after a brief staring contest. “Pierce hired me as one of his accountants. I did some translating for him as well. One day, I was translating some expense reports and shipping documents and I noticed something was off. Eventually I found out that he’d been shipping drugs into the country. I told the cops about that, and they started investigating.”

Iwaizumi listened calmly. Oikawa continued. “Pierce started to suspect someone was a mole, and three days ago, I saw him shoot someone. Naturally I high-tailed it out of there as fast as I could. I called the cops, they said they’ll take care of it, and now, here I am, sitting in a car going god knows where with a man who claims he’ll protect me but won’t even give me his name!”

Iwaizumi felt bad for the guy. “Sorry. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime. Probably should’ve introduced myself before flinging us off a roof,” he admitted. 

Oikawa looked at him, silently evaluating. “No, Iwaizumi’s too long. Iwa-chan sounds much better, doesn’t it?”

Iwaizumi sputtered. “Iwa- NO.” On one hand, he was glad that the sudden tension had evaporated. On the other hand…

Oikawa smiled. “Yes, Iwa-chan is perfect!”

“Oh my god, stop talking!”

...he definitely would've preferred tension to this sudden nickname-giving enthusiasm.


	2. The Safehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi would've much rather kept some facts from Oikawa. Too bad his brain-to-mouth filter disagrees and his brain is an asshole sometimes.

Two hours and thirty-seven minutes later (not that he was counting), Iwaizumi stopped the car in front of a small house in the middle of a forest. “Right, here we are,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt. There was another car parked near the house, a dark gray SUV.

Oikawa looked outside, watching the house and the small shed next to it suspiciously. “This is your safehouse? Doesn’t look very safe.”

Iwaizumi glared at him. “It’s safe. Come on.”

They grabbed the two duffel bags from the back seat and made their way to the door. Before either had a chance to even touch the door knob the door flew open, revealing a stunning man with silver hair and a friendly smile. “Hey! You made it!” He greeted them happily, stepping back to let them step in.

“Hey Suga-san,” Iwaizumi greeted. He pointed at Oikawa. “Everything set up here?”

“Of course,” Suga said before turning to Oikawa. “Hello, I’m Sugawara, but you may call me ‘Suga’. Everyone does,” he introduced himself with a kind smile.

Oikawa raised an eyebrow and smiled back. “Nice to meet you. I’m Oikawa Tooru. Iwa-chan didn’t mention there’d be someone meeting us?”

Suga’s eyes widened in surprise, before he tilted his head to look at Iwaizumi, a delighted but mischievous expression adorning his face. “I bet he didn’t. ‘Iwa-chan’, huh? I’ll have to remember that!”

“No, you don’t,” Iwaizumi grunted. 

“In any case, you look awful,” Suga said to him bluntly, closing the door and herding Oikawa further into the house smoothly. "Do you need stitches?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “It’s just surface stuff, I’ll just bathe in disinfectant.” He took the other duffel bag from Oikawa. “I’ll stash these, then you can show me the works,” he said, mostly to Suga. He ditched the bag containing his clothes into the living room, and then went upstairs to stash the other bag.

Suga shook his head, watching Iwaizumi go. “I think he’s adorable when he’s flustered like that, don’t you agree, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa cleared his throat. “Sure. Then again, I just met him a few hours ago.”

“Well, he’s staying with you until we can safely move you, so I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Suga said. “Oh, would you like some tea?”

Oikawa smiled. “Well, aren’t you refreshing! Yes, please!”

The two went into the kitchen, and Oikawa sat down while Suga prepared three cups of tea. “So,” Oikawa trailed his fingers on the tabletop, “can I ask who you people are?”

Suga gave him one of the cups. “What I can tell you is that we’re an independent contractor. We accept jobs that pay well, and jobs that don’t pay well but are morally right. The police investigating Pierce outsourced your protection detail to us.”

Oikawa stared at Suga. “I really don’t follow.”

 

 

Upstairs, Iwaizumi dumped the duffel bag into the bedroom closet. He then went to the bathroom to clean himself up a bit. He looked at himself through the mirror, and grimaced. There was a bruise on his temple, which he guessed came from the bottle. He ran his tongue over his teeth, and was happy to find that none of them was loose. That would’ve sucked. 

His nose had apparently been bleeding at some point. He shook his head and washed his face with warm water. His hands stung a bit, and he had to spend a couple of minutes picking shards of glass off his palms and wrap a couple of layers of gauze around them before he deemed himself presentable. There was some blood on his shirt collar, but he decided that that could be dealt with later.

He went back downstairs to find Oikawa and Suga chatting amicably. There was a third cup of tea on the counter, which he grabbed gratefully. 

“So, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa was watching him carefully. He raised a suspicious eyebrow while sipping his tea. “What happens next?”

Iwaizumi sat down on the chair opposite of Oikawa, and took a sip of his tea. “We’ll sit out here until we’re cleared to leave. That’s what I was told?” He looked at Suga for confirmation.

Suga nodded. “That’s the plan so far,” he agreed. He finished his tea and stood up. “I’ll leave you two to settle in, then. I had some spare time, so there’s food ready in the fridge. Just heat it up when you want to eat. Otherwise, the fridge and the freezer are stocked, so hopefully you won’t have to go grocery shopping any time soon,” he said with a smile.

He nodded his head towards the living room. “Iwaizumi, if you’ll come with me for a moment?”

Iwaizumi followed Suga into the living room where Suga had booted up a laptop. 

“I know you have a laptop with you, so please use that for recreational purposes,” Suga started. “This one is directly connected to all the security cameras around the house, so please don’t watch Netflix from this, okay?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, mom, this isn’t my first babysitting gig,” he muttered. 

Suga chuckled. “In any case, I’ve also set up alarms and linked them to this laptop. It’ll alert you to any vehicles within 200 metres, which should give you some time to run or hide. I know you’d never do either, but I continue to hope.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Any weapons around?” 

“A pistol in the bedroom, another two and a shotgun under the coffee table in the living room, extra clips, grenades, and flashbombs in the cleaning cupboard, and I also took the liberty of electrifying the front and back doors. Oh, and there’s a tunnel beneath the house that leads into the woods, about two kilometres east of here. The entry is through a trap door beneath the kitchen table. There’s a flashlight, a pistol, and a couple of bottles of water in there, too. I also stashed a getaway car near the exit, the keys are in the glove box.”

Iwaizumi stared at Suga. Suga blushed lightly. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

“No,” Iwaizumi shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared. Last time I was in a safehouse, it was after Kuroo and Bokuto had been there and there was one pack of cigarettes and three cups of instant ramen left. Two of which were only half full. I don't even want to know why.”

Suga gave a sympathetic smile. “They’re good agents, but otherwise complete disasters. Right, I really should get going. I’ll see you when I see you!”

Suga stopped by the kitchen to bid farewell to Oikawa before he left. “Goodbye Oikawa-san, I hope you have a nice time under the circumstances. Please try not to antagonize our Iwaizumi here too much, he has an awfully short fuse.”

In Iwaizumi’s opinion, Oikawa looked way too happy about that little tidbit of information. 

“Bye, Suga-san, thanks for the tea!”

Iwaizumi sat back down, sipping his tea. Judging by Oikawa’s smirk, he was in for a long wait.

 

 

A couple of hours later Iwaizumi was heating up the wok Suga had left them. Oikawa was raiding the pantry. 

“I swear to god if there’s not a single bottle of wine here I’m gonna—YES!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, dividing the frankly delicious looking food onto two plates. “I still think drinking might not be the best idea.” He was only mildly opposed to the idea. After the adrenaline rush of the day, he was craving for a drink. 

Oikawa reappeared with a bottle of red wine. “Wine is always a good idea, Iwa-chan! Now, are there any glasses, or are we forced to drink from the bottle like peasants?”

“Who even says ‘peasants’,” Iwaizumi muttered, setting the frying pan into the sink before opening a cupboard and taking out two glasses. 

“I do,” Oikawa huffed and started going through the drawers, looking for a bottle opener. Iwaizumi set the glasses down next to the plates and opened up the drawer directly to his right. He then held out the bottle opener for Oikawa with a raised eyebrow. 

Oikawa scrunched up his nose (fucking adorable) for a moment before accepting the small device. He went about opening the wine expertly. “I would’ve found it eventually.”

“I’m sure you would’ve,” Iwaizumi agreed, moving the plates from the countertop to the table. He grabbed two pairs of chopsticks from another drawer and sat down, letting Oikawa take care of the glasses. 

The chestnut-haired man was humming to himself as he set a glass in front of Iwaizumi and poured him a fairly liberal amount of wine before sitting down and doing the same for himself. “So, Iwa-chan…”

“Stop calling me Iwa-chan, my name is Iwaizumi.”

“No way, that’s too long and dreadfully un-cute. How long have you known Mr. Refreshing?” He asked casually, taking a sip. “Oh, that’s a good wine.”

Iwaizumi frowned, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Who?”

Oikawa gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Suga-san, who else? Are you hiding another person here, Iwa-chan?”

“Uh,” Iwaizumi replied intelligently, “First of all, there’s no one else hiding here. Secondly, how is it any of your business how long we’ve known each other?”

Oikawa shrugged. “It’s not, I’m just curious. You seemed very friendly with each other.”

Oh. THAT’S what he was implying. Iwaizumi shook his head and resumed eating. The food was delicious. “As much as I’d love to tell you that it’s none of your business, I’ve got the feeling you’re not going to drop it. We’re friends. We’ve been working together for a few years. He’s in a serious, monogamous relationship with another colleague. Are you happy now?”

Oikawa tipped his glass towards him. “Very, thank you.”

They ate in silence for a good fifteen minutes. “This is really good,” Oikawa commented, poking at his food with his chopsticks. “Mr. Refreshing is a good cook.”

Iwaizumi nodded. 

Oikawa stopped eating slowly, setting his chopsticks aside. “Um, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi lifted his eyes from his plate to Oikawa and was about to ask him again to call him by his actual name. The unsure look on Oikawa’s face, however, had him pause. 

“Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Oikawa made the wine in his glass swirl around with a tiny move of his wrist. He wasn’t looking at Iwaizumi. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you yet. So,” his eyes met Iwaizumi’s, “thank you. For saving my life.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi blinked. (Oh shit, are you actually blushing because someone thanked you? Oh hell no.) “Um. You’re welcome. I mean, there’s no need to thank me,” Iwaizumi stumbled over his words. (What are you, a teenager now?)

Oikawa smiled. There was a slight pinkish hue to his cheeks. “Yes, there is. If you hadn’t been there, I’d probably be dead instead of sitting here with you, having wine and dinner.”

Iwaizumi put his chopsticks down. “Really, it’s fine. I’m just doing my job,” he muttered. He really needed that drink now. With that thought, he downed half a glass, hoping that the blush he was sure he had (like a fucking teenager, seriously, get a hold of yourself, Hajime) would disappear.

Oikawa watched him with a thoughtful expression. It was slightly unnerving. 

“Your job or not, you’ve kept me alive so far,” he said eventually. “In any case, what’s there to do? I’m assuming we’re here for at least the night.”

Iwaizumi shrugged, this time taking a smaller sip of wine. He was more of a whiskey-guy himself, but this wasn’t half bad. “Not much, to be honest. Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He suggested, already thinking of cleaning his gun. 

Oikawa’s eyes widened. “Any chance we have Netflix? There’s a film I’ve been meaning to watch for ages!”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Sure. You can use my laptop,” he rose from the table, clearing their plates and setting them to the sink. “Actually before that, I should show you to the bedroom.”

Oikawa arched an eyebrow. “Please do.”

He decided not to acknowledge the double entendre. Instead, he led Oikawa upstairs and opened the bedroom door. “Right, so you’ll be staying here. There’s an en suite bathroom and some extra clothes in the wardrobe. Keep out of the duffel bag in the lowest shelf, yeah? Make yourself at home.” He turned on his heels, about to head back downstairs when he remembered something. 

“Oh, if you happen to find a gun, don’t touch it unless you absolutely have to.”

Oikawa nodded, and watched as Iwaizumi walked away.

He glanced around the room, sitting down on the bed. It was comfortable enough. He hopped off the bed and opened the closet. T-shirts, henleys, jeans, khakis, sweatpants. A few sweaters as well. Further inspection revealed that everything was in his size. “Expecting me, were you?” He muttered to himself, grabbing a t-shirt and the sweatpants and changing into them quickly. 

 

 

He came back downstairs to an interesting sight. Iwaizumi stood by the couch in the living room, apparently digging through his duffel bag. What made the sight interesting was that he’d removed his bloodstained dress shirt, and was, in fact, topless. 

His first impression about Iwaizumi hadn’t been wrong. The one where he'd thought Iwaizumi was exceptionally well-formed? Yeah, that one. His back muscles flexed when he moved, and Oikawa quickly came to the realization that he’d never found anyone’s arms as attractive as he found Iwaizumi’s. 

“Are you just gonna stand there and ogle?” Iwaizumi asked without turning around.

Oikawa huffed, ignoring the fact that his cheeks were probably red again. “To be honest, I’m kind of liking the view.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorway. He already got caught, why not milk it for what it’s worth. Now if Iwaizumi would just turn around so he could get a good look at what had to be at least a six-pack… 

Iwaizumi shook his head with a sigh. He found a relatively clean t-shirt and pulled it on before turning around and fixing Oikawa with a Look, to which Oikawa responded with a shrug and a smirk. 

“By the way, I couldn’t help but notice there was only one bed?” Oikawa asked, raising an eyebrow as Iwaizumi passed him on his way to the kitchen to grab the rest of the wine and their glasses. He handed Oikawa his glass before sitting on the couch and booting up his laptop.

“One bed’s enough for one person. I’m sleeping here.”

Oikawa moved away from the doorway and took a seat next to Iwaizumi. He watched as the man found the streaming site and slid the laptop over to him. “Watch what you want, I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Hmm,” Oikawa agreed and found the film he was looking for with ease. 

Iwaizumi pulled a crate out from under the coffee table, and opened it. “Suga, you’re the best,” he mumbled, moving the two pistols out of the way before taking out the shotgun.

Oikawa leaned back with his glass, watching Iwaizumi more than the movie. “Why’s Suga the best?” He asked curiously. 

Iwaizumi raised the shotgun, aiming at nothing. “Because he knows exactly how to make me happy,” he said gleefully, holding the gun up. “Oikawa, meet my first child: Mossberg 590A1 Tactical, 12 gauge, 8-shot, 18.5-inch barrel, and a tactical light,” he said proudly. 

Oikawa raised his glass in mock salute. “Nice to meet you, Moss-chan. I hope you realize your father is not well in the head.”

Iwaizumi shot him a glare before petting the gun affectionately. “He didn’t mean that,” he set the shotgun back into the crate. 

“Do you always refer to your weapons as your children?” Oikawa asked sarcastically, turning his attention back to his movie. 

“Only when they’re special,” Iwaizumi snarked, grabbing a gun cleaning kit from the crate and turning his attention to his Glock. 

As he disassembled the pistol, he glanced at what Oikawa was watching. “What’s your thing about aliens?”

“What thing about aliens?” Oikawa asked, blinking in confusion. 

“You’ve got a lot of alien stuff at your place, Space Nerd,” Iwaizumi said, cleaning the barrel.

At Oikawa’s silence, Iwaizumi stopped and mentally rewinded the conversation. “Um.”

“How do you know that?”

Iwaizumi wanted to smack himself. He’d been kind of hoping to avoid a situation where Oikawa found out he’d spent two weeks watching his every move. The situation that was kind of happening right now. (Well done, champ.)

“Iwaizumi, how long were you watching me?” Oikawa asked his calmly. 

Ah, fuck. He actually called him by his name. He kind of had to answer that now, didn’t he? “Two weeks,” he admitted. 

Oikawa was quiet for a moment, before he downed his wine in one gulp. “And it didn’t cross your mind to contact me a little bit earlier?” He said icily.

Iwaizumi sighed, putting the barrel down. “I was under orders not to. Only if your life was in danger.”

“I think it was in danger a little before those guys came after me!” Oikawa yelled.

“Look, I couldn’t contact you!” Iwaizumi defended himself. “The cops are investigating Pierce, I was only supposed to keep an eye on you and make sure he didn’t get you killed before they could get him to a trial! They’re going to want you testify against him,” he reasoned. 

Oikawa was still visibly upset. Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

“I’m going to bed,” Oikawa said, putting his glass on the table before leaving Iwaizumi alone without another word.

Iwaizumi waited until he heard the distinct sound of a door slamming before slapping his forehead. “Great work, Hajime. Great work.”

 

 

Oikawa lied in bed, too furious to sleep. He kept thinking about the three days he’d spent cooped up in his apartment, not answering his phone, scared shitless that someone could kick his door in any minute.

He didn’t know why he’d answered his phone when Iwaizumi had called. He’s just felt like if he didn’t answer, something bad would happen. Something bad happened anyway, but it would’ve been a lot worse if he hadn’t picked up the phone. 

He lied awake until it was almost three in the morning. He sighed. He couldn’t sleep.

Oikawa shook his head in frustration. “Ah, dammit,” he sighed again, getting out of the bed and heading downstairs quietly. 

The minute he walked into the living room, he was looking down the barrel of the Mossberg. 

Iwaizumi was aiming at him over the back of the couch, them he quickly put the gun down. “Jesus, are you trying to get shot?! Don’t sneak up on people!” He groaned, leaning back down.

Oikawa got over his initial shock fairly quickly. “Um, yeah, I’ll try to not do that in the future. Iwa-chan, I’m sorry for freaking out on you earlier,” he apologized, sitting on the armrest.

Iwaizumi sat up, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine, it’s probably weird to hear someone’s been watching you for days, especially after today,” he said. 

Oikawa shrugged. “I guess it was just a shock. You know, for three days, I kept waiting for someone to kick my door in and shoot me or something,” he confessed, running his fingers through his hair. “When you called, it was the first time I even picked up the phone after calling the police.”

Iwaizumi brought his knees up, crossing his arms over them and resting his chin on his arms. “Why did you? Pick up, I mean.”

“Honestly? I have no idea. I just felt like I should,” he answered. 

They sat quietly for a while. Oikawa felt finally sleepy. He stood up with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back slightly.

“So, I think I’ll go back to bed. Are you sure you don’t want to join me? The bed’s certainly wide enough,” he asked, wanting to lighten the mood a bit. 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “No thanks,” he said as he laid back down on his back, resting his forearm over his eyes. He missed the way Oikawa’s eyes lingered on his body appreciatively.

“Suit yourself,” Oikawa sniped, heading for the stairs. “Just so you know: I’m an excellent cuddler.”

He heard an annoyed groan from Iwaizumi. “Go. Sleep badly. Any questions, hesitate to call,” he flipped Oikawa the bird. 

“Bad,” Oikawa corrected, stopping at the first step.

“What?” Iwaizumi frowned, sitting back up and looking over the back rest at him.

Oikawa waved his hand flippantly. “Sleep bad. Otherwise it makes it seem like the mechanism that allows you to sleep—“ 

“What? Who taught you grammar? Badly’s an adverb. Get out,” Iwaizumi snorted, letting himself fall down on his back comfortably. 

“Really?” He heard Oikawa walk up the stairs, mumbling something about adverbs and sleeping mechanisms.

Iwaizumi listened as the other man ascended the stairs. He stared at the ceiling, replaying the evening in his mind. 

He realized he had been paying way too much attention to the other’s lips when he spoke, the way he moved... 

“Fuck.”

He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, especially after that particular realization, so he got up and walked into the kitchen. There had to be something he could do to keep his brain from making unnecessary leaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep editing and re-editing this fic. I thought it was finished. Oh well. Apologies for the short grammar-thing at the end, my love of movie references knows no limits.
> 
> Stay tuned for the next bit, thanks for reading!


	3. Coffee with a capital C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two protagonists get closer with the aid of coffee, physical contact, and exercises in plumbing and shooting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a while to update, I had some actual schoolwork to do.  
> This was originally two separate chapters, but in the end, I wasn't happy with the length of either. 
> 
> Enjoy!

*

When Oikawa woke up the following morning, he couldn’t remember where he was for a few alarming seconds. Once he remembered, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Then he smelled coffee. That woke him right up. 

He wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, where Iwaizumi was sitting by the table, drinking coffee and nibbling on a piece of toast as he was reading something from his laptop. He was now wearing a black tank top with black sweatpants, treating Oikawa to a wonderful view of his biceps. 

“Good morning,” Oikawa greeted, making a beeline to the coffee machine. After a brief search, he’d obtained himself a cup and happily made himself a cup. He added a fairly liberal amount of milk and sugar to it, mainly because as much as he loved coffee, he couldn’t stand the bitterness.

“Morning,” Iwaizumi said distractedly. “I thought you would’ve slept ‘til noon. It’s only a little past ten,” he commented, glancing at him shortly before going back to whatever he was reading. 

Oikawa shrugged. “I’m used to getting up early,” he said, taking a sip. Immediately after tasting the liquid, his eyes widened and he let out a loud moan of pleasure. “Sweet mother of god, this is the best coffee I’ve ever had!” 

The tips of Iwaizumi’s ears were red. “Uh, I guess it’s okay,” he mumbled, not really tasting anything special in it. 

Oikawa sat down across from him, staring at him. “Iwa-chan, you don’t understand. If this coffee were a person, I would shower them with all the love and affection I could possibly muster. I’d take them to bed and spend all day pleasuring them until they couldn’t take it anymore, and I would do it all over again the next day.”

All Iwaizumi could do was stare back at him. Oikawa looked completely serious. 

“In fact,” Oikawa looked between his cup and Iwaizumi for a moment, “since you made this absolutely perfect specimen of caffeinated liquid, I’m sorely tempted to take you upstairs for aforementioned activities.”

Iwaizumi could barely manage to keep a straight face. “Wow. I did not see that coming when I envisioned this morning. Anyway: thanks, but no thanks,” he chugged down the rest of his coffee. 

Oikawa shrugged, leaning back in his chair and cradling the cup between his hands. “Suit yourself. I should tell you, though, I’ve been told I give excellent head.”

“Okay, you know what?” Iwaizumi snapped his laptop shut. “Enough. It’s way too early for that shit. Also, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s a cup of coffee. There’s no need to offer sexual favours in exchange for a cup of coffee. No matter how good that coffee is. Do we understand each other?” 

They looked at each other for a good while before Oikawa nodded. “Duly noted,” he said breezily. 

Iwaizumi sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Good. Apart from that, how did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly well,” Oikawa grinned. “I couldn’t remember where I was when I woke up, but other than that, I’m good.”

“Good,” Iwaizumi said. “Considering the circumstances, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you hadn’t slept.”

“What can I say, I must’ve felt pretty safe,” Oikawa said casually. “So, what’s for breakfast? And so help me, if you say toast, I will kick you in the shin.”

“Oh no, not the shin,” Iwaizumi stated flatly. “Um, the pantry’s stocked, so eat whatever you want?”

“What, you’re not cooking for me?” Oikawa gasped. “I should file a complaint to your supervisor.”

Iwaizumi’s brow twitched. “Please don’t, I’ll lose my Christmas bonus if you do,” he continued in the same tone, pointing at the pantry. “For some reason, I can’t cook breakfast foods. Any other kind? No problem. Eggs and bacon? Fire department. Hence, the toast,” he admitted with a shrug, getting up to refill his cup.

Oikawa gaped at him. “Are you serious? Are you actually serious right now?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “As a heart attack. More coffee?” He held up the pot questioningly.

Oikawa held out his cup, watching as Iwaizumi refilled it. “If this coffee wasn’t practically orgasmic, I might actually kick you. Milk and sugar, please!”

Iwaizumi shook his head, putting the requested items on the table. He watched as Oikawa put spoon after spoon of sugar into his coffee. “Just out of curiosity, how many cavities do you have?”

“Never had one, never will have one!” Oikawa stirred his coffee triumphantly. “I take pride in my dental superiority.”

“Uh huh. I bet you’ll have a cavity within a year.” He had to admit it, though. The coffee was pretty damn good. 

Oikawa stood up, intent on raiding the fridge. “I’m going to ignore that because I’m going to need you to keep making this coffee. So, should I make something for you as well?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. I’ll be outside, yell if anything happens,” he said, finishing his coffee and putting the cup in the sink. 

Oikawa noticed that the dishes from last night were nowhere to be seen. “When did you do the dishes?” 

Iwaizumi looked up from where he was lacing up his shoes. “Last night,” he answered, straightening out and stretching his arms before heading out. 

Oikawa distinctly remembered leaving the dishes in the sink. “Who does the washing up at three in the morning?” He muttered to himself, deciding to make an omelette in any case. 

 

*

 

Iwaizumi would’ve loved to go for a run, but seeing as he had to stay close to Oikawa, he had to settle for other forms of exercise. So, after a series of one-armed pushups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and a hearty jog around the woods within visual range, he did some stretching before going back inside. His shoulder was feeling stiff, but he ignored it for the time being. He’d been shot there a couple of years ago, and it still gave him some trouble if he worked it too hard. Yesterday’s activities hadn’t exactly been light, either.

Oikawa was reading a book in the living room, and he looked up when Iwaizumi walked in. 

“Hello again, Iwa-chan!” He greeted, helping himself to the uninhibited view of a sweaty man with a smile. “You’re sweaty.”

Iwaizumi dug around in his duffel bag for clean clothes. “That’s what happens when you exercise.”

Oikawa shook his head mournfully. “Exercise is the worst. I know it’s supposed to be healthy, but god, at what cost?” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Yoga is much more fun. It makes you very flexible.”

Iwaizumi hummed in agreement, frowning as he rolled his shoulder back a few times to get rid of some of the stiffness.

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, watching him. “Something wrong?”

Iwaizumi shook his head, rubbing the stiff part. “Just my shoulder. I got shot a couple of years ago, it’s still stiff sometimes,” he explained. 

“I could give you massage, if you think that might help?” The younger man suggested, putting a slip of paper on the page he was reading as a bookmark before closing the book and setting it on the table. 

The black-haired man paused to think about it. His shoulder was sort of hurting now, and a massage wouldn’t go amiss. “Alright.”

Oikawa blinked. “You actually said yes?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “I did,” he agreed, stepping over and sitting on the couch with his back to Oikawa. “Unless you were joking?” He glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Oikawa. 

Oikawa grinned, shifting so he was sitting towards Iwaizumi. “I was not! Don’t worry, I’m actually pretty good at this,” he said reassuringly, putting his hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and starting with gentle motions. 

“Is it the right one?” He asked, thumbing the muscle, slightly increasing pressure with every motion. 

“Uh-huh,” Iwaizumi let his head fall forward and closed his eyes. 

Oikawa focused his attention to what he was doing. After a few minutes of quiet, he heard Iwaizumi sigh. “You’re pretty tense,” he commented, moving from one shoulder to another. “How often do you get massages?”

“Not nearly often enough,” Iwaizumi conceded, relaxing under Oikawa’s ministrations. When Oikawa returned to the injured shoulder and thumbed down on the scar, he hissed. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” Oikawa apologised quietly, softening his touch considerably. 

Iwaizumi shook his head. “No, that’s just where the scar is,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. 

Oikawa came to a stop slowly. He peeled back Iwaizumi’s shirt enough to see the scar. He ran his fingers over it, feeling the raised skin. “What happened?” He asked, resting his fingers next to the scar. 

“Routine job went south. Trusted the wrong person, got shot for my efforts,” Iwaizumi mused. “Things turned out better for me in the end.”

“How do you mean?” Oikawa frowned. 

“I’m breathing, the person who shot me is not,” Iwaizumi concluded. He shifted away from Oikawa, rolling his shoulders easier. “Thank you.” 

He was mentally slapping himself upside the head for accepting the massage. Getting a massage from someone you’re supposed to protect wasn’t the most professional thing he could’ve done.

Oikawa rested his hands on his thighs, giving Iwaizumi a smile. “No problem, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi grabbed the clothes he’d dug out. 

“I need a shower. If my phone rings, don’t answer it, okay?” He pointed at the cell phone on the coffee table before grabbing his stuff and heading to the bathroom. 

 

Seven minutes later, the phone rang. Oikawa reached over, grabbed it and hit ‘answer’. “Iwa-chan’s phone, Oikawa here!”

There was silence at the other end for a moment, before a friendly voice replied to him. _“Hello, Oikawa-san. Where’s Iwaizumi?”_

“He’s in the shower. He was exercising, eww. May I ask who’s calling?” He said cheerfully.

_“I’m Sawamura. I could call back later?”_

“Nonsense!” Oikawa flicked his wrist flippantly, leaning back against the couch. “I’m bored, and you sound friendly. Are you a friend of Iwa-chan’s?”

_“Actually, I’m kind of his boss.”_

“Really!” Oikawa grinned happily. “Well then, I’d like to issue a complaint!”

_“What? Um… okay?”_

“Iwa-chan can’t cook breakfast foods. Then again, the coffee certainly makes up for it. So, I guess it balances out in the end. Complaint withdrawn.”

_“Yeah, we’re all kind of wondering about what it is about breakfast food that just doesn’t work with him. But the coffee is a pleasant surprise, I agree.”_

“Oh my god, I know! Seriously, the best coffee I’ve ever had. Orgasmic, even. I offered to blow him as a thank you, but he didn’t go for it,” Oikawa whined. 

There was sputtering and laughing in the background. Oikawa was about to comment on it, when Iwaizumi came back. 

“Are talking to yourse—oh hell no! I thought I said don’t answer it?” He growled, snatching the phone from him during his moment of weakness. He glanced at the screen, groaning. “Daichi, I’ll call you back.”

He finished the call without listening to what Daichi might’ve replied. He glared at Oikawa, crossing his arms over his chest.

In his defence, Oikawa looked mildly apologetic. “I’m sorry. Force of habit, I guess?” He smiled hesitantly. 

Iwaizumi rubbed his temples. “Why do I bother?” He asked, mostly from himself, as he redialed Daichi’s number and went out on the patio to talk.

Daichi picked up after two rings. _“Hi there, ‘Iwa-chan’!”_

Iwaizumi groaned and let his head hit the wall. “Not you, too.”

_“Never,”_ Daichi laughed. _“So I take it you’re been a gracious host, despite your chronic case of breakfast intolerance?”_

“This guy is already driving me nuts, Daichi,” he moaned. “Is there any way someone else could take over?”

_“Everyone else is busy. Also, I think that this might actually be good for you. Provided of course that you keep things professional.”_

“Are you implying something?”

_“Of course not. Just, be careful, alright? Anyway, I called you because there’s still no sign of Pierce. It’s been quiet since you two skipped town yesterday.”_

“What, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum can’t find him?” Iwaizumi heard some ruckus in the background, along with offended voices. He smirked.

_“You two, shut the hell up!”_ Daichi yelled at the people in the background before coming back to Iwaizumi. _“Kuroo would like me to extend his and Bokuto’s regards to you, and he would also like to remind you that calling them names is unprofessional.”_

_“I said to tell him he’s a fucking donkey, Sawamura, not all that crap!”_

Iwaizumi laughed. “Tell him he wouldn’t know a donkey if one bit him in the ass.”

Daichi sighed, his voice turning away from the phone. _“Kuroo, Iwaizumi would also like to extend his regards, and would like to express his surprise, as he wasn’t aware that you have experience with farm animals.”_

Iwaizumi was fucking tickled. He shook his head. “Thanks, Daichi. Any word on that vermin infestation?”

_“Nothing so far. The big guy’s body was gone from the hotel by the time we got there. Keep your eyes open, I’ll let you know as soon as I know something. Oh, one more thing?”_

“Hmm?”

_“Don’t be stingy with the coffee.”_

Iwaizumi hung up at the sound of raucous laughter. “Son of a bitch.” He pocketed his phone with a sigh, leaning against the wall.

*

 

Later, Iwaizumi’s cat nap was rudely interrupted by a scream.

“Oikawa!” He yelled and rolled off the couch, grabbing the Glock from beneath his pillow and heading towards the sound as fast as he could. 

“In the kitchen!”

He ran into the kitchen and was greeted with the sight of Oikawa battling with the faucet, which had apparently decided to break and spray water everywhere. With a sigh, Iwaizumi tucked the gun into his waistband, strode over and removed Oikawa’s hands from the faucet. Both of them were soaked before he managed to turn off the water.  
The two stood in front of the broken faucet, both dripping with cold water and murderously staring at the faucet. 

Oikawa cleared his throat. “I’d just like to say that I didn’t do that on purpose. It was stuck,” he said carefully.

Iwaizumi nodded. “I noticed it earlier. I probably should’ve warned you about that. Sorry.”

“That would’ve been nice,” Oikawa said frostily. 

They stood still for a moment, then Iwaizumi nodded again. “I should fix that,” he stated. He glanced down at himself and frowned at the wet shirt. “Goddammit. Remind me to do some laundry,” he muttered before pulling his t-shirt off completely. Luckily his pants were relatively dry. 

Oikawa’s annoyance evaporated immediately. He flat-out stared at Iwaizumi’s chest and stomach. His initial thought? _It should be illegal to look like that._ There were scars littered all over his body, and Oikawa was suddenly dying to know where all those little marks came from. He wanted to connect them with his fingers and tongue, especially the ones that disappeared beneath his waistband… 

Iwaizumi, unaware of Oikawa’s current thought process, dropped his wet shirt on to the countertop, along with the gun. He pointed at Oikawa. “Take off your shirt.”

Oikawa blanched as he dropped out of his less than pure thoughts. “No!”

“What?” Iwaizumi frowned, genuinely confused. “You’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold or something. Take it off.”

“Nu-uh, not with all THAT going on, no!” Oikawa shook his head, motioning up and down Iwaizumi’s body with his index finger. 

It took Iwaizumi a while to understand what the brown-haired man was getting at. When it did travel all the way to his consciousness, his brow twitched. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, that really is too impressive,” Oikawa said, now completely serious. He leaned closer, holding his hand over Iwaizumi’s chest, almost close enough to touch. “Holy shit.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, grabbing Oikawa’s hand and holding it further away. “Yeah, we’re done with the peep show. Go get changed, Trashykawa.”

“What?!” Oikawa gasped, straightening out in a flash. “Rude!”

“Stop ogling me, and maybe I’ll stop being rude!” Iwaizumi snapped, stalking off to the living room to find another shirt. 

Oikawa huffed, heading upstairs to do the same. 

 

*

 

When he came back down, Iwaizumi was fixing the faucet and muttering curses. He was also, much to Oikawa’s disappointment, wearing a dry shirt now.

“How’s it going?” Oikawa asked conversationally, hopping to sit on the countertop to see better. 

A few more muttered curses. Oikawa nodded. “So, not that great then?” He glanced at the coffee maker, but refrained from suggesting Iwaizumi make some. 

“You could say that,” Iwaizumi mumbled, trying to shift a bent screw forcefully from the base when his screwdriver slipped and promptly tore open the edge of his wrist. “Fuck!!!”

He swore, letting the offending instrument fall into sink. Blood from the wound dripped on top of it, and he quickly covered the bleeding cut with his other hand, hissing. 

Oikawa was startled. “Jesus! Are you okay? Did it hit anything vital?” He jumped down to the floor, holding Iwaizumi’s hand gently and leaning closer. 

“I don’t think so,” Iwaizumi said, moving the hand covering the wound a bit so they both could see.

Oikawa grimaced. “That looks deep. Where’s the first aid kit?” 

“In the downstairs bathroom, under the sink,” Iwaizumi replied, grabbing the wet t-shirt that he’d forgotten by the sink and pressed it to his wrist.

Oikawa ran out of the kitchen to search for the kit. Iwaizumi sat down by the table, bracing his elbow on the surface and holding his hand up. He sighed. “Fucking amateur.”

Oikawa came back with the kit, a small bowl of water and a towel. “Why you would have a gun in the bathroom is beyond me, but let’s get that cleaned up, yeah?” He pulled the other chair closer, sitting down and opening the kit. 

He started digging through it, making a small victorious sound when he found a roll of gauze and disinfectant. He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, making a ‘come hither’-move with his hand. “Gimme.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, but held his hand over anyway. “There’s a gun in the bathroom? Where?”

“It was behind the kit,” Oikawa gently peeled the shirt away, scrunching his nose up at the sight of blood and slightly tattered skin. “Stitches probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. Want me to do it?” He looked up at Iwaizumi, and was surprised by the way Iwaizumi was watching him, as if he was observing or analysing him.

“Are you any good at it?” The black-haired man asked jovially, looking away and sorting through the box for a needle and thread. 

“I’m fairly good. I was in nursing school, top of my class,” Oikawa smirked, taking the items Iwaizumi had found and disinfecting them. “You might want to take some pain killers, if there is any.”

Iwaizumi shrugged, glancing at the kit. “There probably is. I’ll take them later.”

Oikawa gave him a half-hearted glare before flushing the wound with disinfectant. Iwaizumi hissed, and frowned. “Aren’t nurses supposed to be gentle, or some shit?”

“I didn’t graduate, so that doesn’t apply to me!” Oikawa said cheerfully, wetting the towel in the water bowl before gently patting around the wound to clean it up a bit. “Okay, I’ll just go ahead, then?”

Iwaizumi nodded. He’d once sewn himself up with dental floss. This was nothing.

Oikawa started stitching him up, as gently but efficiently as he could. Iwaizumi watched his progress without making a sound. 

“Why’d you quit nursing school?” Iwaizumi asked suddenly, as Oikawa was finishing up.

“Hm?” Oikawa glanced up briefly, shrugging. “Didn’t feel like doing it after all. Computers and software are a lot easier to deal with than people,” he explained. 

Iwaizumi gave a small, lopsided smile. “I get that.”

Oikawa had now finished the stitches, and disinfected the wound once more before wrapping the gauze over it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Iwaizumi shrugged. 

“Why do you… do what you do?” He looked up from Iwaizumi’s wrist. The other man had a faraway look in his eyes as he looked out the window. 

“That’s a long story, and not a particularly happy one,” he said eventually, clearing his throat. “Maybe later. Are you done?”

Oikawa blinked. “Uh, yeah,” he let go of Iwaizumi’s hand, smiling. “All done, Iwa-chan!” He packed the kit away and emptied the water bowl into the sink. 

“Thanks, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi gave him a tight smile. “Want some coffee?”

Oikawa recognized a topic evasion when he saw one, which is why he threw Iwaizumi his most perverted grin. “Iwa-chan, I knew you’d come around!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I meant some actual coffee, pervert!”

Oikawa laughed. “Why is it okay to offer coffee in exchange for medicinal services, but not sexual? Those could be for medicinal purposes, too!”

Iwaizumi smacked him upside the head as he walked past him to grab the coffee pot before he headed for the bathroom to fill it up from there, as he wasn’t about to fix the kitchen faucet anymore. (Fuck that, let Daichi call a fucking plumber.)

 

*

 

The rest of their day was, luckily, uneventful. It turned out that while Oikawa could cook breakfast food like a pro, he was pretty much useless at any other meal time. They made a compromise: Oikawa would cook breakfast, while Iwaizumi would handle the rest of the food. And the coffee. That was non-negotiable on Oikawa’s part. 

In the evening, when they were sitting and watching a movie (“Another alien movie? Seriously? Is this all you watch?” “Shut up, Iwa-chan, a really good part’s coming up!”), Oikawa piped up when the end credits began to roll. 

“Can you teach me how to shoot?”

Iwaizumi nearly spat out the beer he’d just sipped. “What?” He asked incredulously, wiping his mouth.

“Teach me how to shoot?” Oikawa asked again. “You know, with a gun?”

“Why do you wanna learn how to shoot?” Iwaizumi frowned. 

Oikawa looked slightly troubled for a moment, before he visibly steeled himself. “If someone’s out to get me, I should at least know how to defend myself, right?”

Iwaizumi considered the thought for a minute. “Unbelievably enough, you might be onto something here,” he pondered, ignoring Oikawa’s protests. “Fine. Do you want to actually shoot something, or just aim at stuff and say ‘bang’?”

Oikawa scrunched up his nose, as Iwaizumi had noticed him doing every time he was annoyed. “Shoot stuff. Obviously. I think we’ve got some cans and bottles to practice on?”

Iwaizumi nodded, grabbing the Glock from under his pillow, where it had been sitting quietly since the faucet debacle, and got to his feet. “Alright. Come on, then, we’re not doing this in the house.”

They each grabbed a couple of cans and empty bottles from the kitchen, and Iwaizumi turned on the lights in the yard. He gave the gun to Oikawa so he could get used to the feel of it (“Jesus Christ, don’t look down the barrel! Or point it anywhere but the ground for now!”) and arranged their targets into a nice line at about waist level. He found only one pair of ear buds, which he gave to Oikawa.

“Okay,” he said, taking the gun again and turning it so Oikawa could see a small switch on the side. “That’s the safety. Before you start shooting things, you need to make sure it’s off. If you’re not about to shoot something, keep it turned on. You don’t want to shoot yourself in the foot by accident.”

Oikawa nodded, paying attention properly for once. 

Iwaizumi continued. “Right. You grip the gun like this,” he held it in his right hand, with the left hand supporting from beneath. “And don’t rest your finger on the trigger. That’s another way to shoot someone or yourself by accident. Keep the finger off the trigger until you’re actually going to shoot. Fingers next to it.”

He glanced at Oikawa to make sure he was still paying attention. Which he was. He nodded his approval. “Then you aim. If you’re shooting at a person, don’t even try to hit them in the head. It’s highly unlikely to hit, and if you miss, you’ll die. No. You aim for their body: stomach, chest, that whole area,” he took the left hand off the gun to motion in a large circle in front of them. “That way your target area’s bigger, so you’re more likely hit. Also, a gut shot is very unpleasant for the recipient, chest shots are almost always fatal without immediate medical attention. Both are 100% fatal without medical attention.”

Iwaizumi moved the gun to his left hand, holding his right hand up. “Now when you shoot, you squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it. If you pull it, you’ll mess up your aim. Squeeze it,” he demonstrated with his index finger. 

He took a firm grip of the gun again, aiming at the cans. “The next thing you need to know that it’s loud. It’s loud as fuck. Movies lie about this all the time. Silencers are only good if you don’t want to deafen yourself. So when you shoot, know that your ears will be ringing for a while. Also, these things have a kick so make sure you don’t lock your arms. Okay. I’ll show you once, then you can try. Put those buds in your ears,” he said.

Oikawa did as he was asked, nodding towards Iwaizumi. “What about your ears?”

“My hearing’s already fucked, so this isn’t going to worsen the damage,” Iwaizumi replied. “Ready?” 

“Wait,” Oikawa set his hands on Iwaizumi’s ears with a grin. “Okay!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes as he flicked the safety off, aimed carefully, and fired. The can formerly housing tomato soup flew off.

Oikawa clapped. “You’re good,” he said, nodding in approval. 

Iwaizumi put the safety back on before handing the gun to Oikawa. “I’ve been practicing.”

Oikawa took the gun, imitating Iwaizumi’s grip. The black-haired man adjusted his grip a bit, sending shivers down Oikawa’s spine. 

“Okay, go ahead. Safety off, aim, squeeze the trigger,” Iwaizumi nodded, stepping back and covering his ears.

Oikawa jolted a bit, but said nothing in favour of aiming. He took a breath, flicked the safety off, and squeezed the trigger. 

The bullet missed all the targets. “Dammit!” Oikawa frowned. 

Iwaizumi took his hands off his ears and stepped closer. “Don’t worry about it, those are ridiculously small targets for this purpose. Let’s try the next one, hang on,” he said, moving so he was standing right next to Oikawa. He extended his arm, and held it over Oikawa’s on the gun. He put his other hand on Oikawa’s hip to keep his balance. 

“Aim, then squeeze,” he repeated, helping Oikawa adjust his aim. He glanced down, nudging Oikawa’s legs slightly apart. “Keep your feet slightly apart, it’ll help with your balance.”

Oikawa felt Iwaizumi’s breath when he spoke. It was somewhat distracting. And ridiculously hot. 

He aimed and fired. This time, he hit one of the cans. He flashed Iwaizumi a bright smile. “I hit it!”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth was definitely twitching. “Well done, Annie Oakley, wanna try repeating that?”

Oikawa repeated the exercise, with Iwaizumi’s soft guidance. 

After a few shots, Iwaizumi seemed to realize their close proximity and stepped back with a small cough. He motioned for Oikawa to keep shooting before covering his ears again, and Oikawa felt much colder during the last few shots he fired. 

In the end, he had managed to hit four out of six targets.

“You did well,” Iwaizumi admitted when they headed back inside. “Didn’t think you would, but you did.”

Oikawa punched him in the arm. “I happen to be a natural at most things I try!”

“Sadly, cooking is not one of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I've demonstrated, I know nothing about plumbing or shooting. I've got an air rifle (BB-gun, I suppose?), but that's about it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, stay tuned for the next bit!


	4. Almost there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Physical contact intensifies. Oikawa has had enough, Iwaizumi throws a spanner in the works, and Sugawara is a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I got nothing. Onwards!

After the shooting practice, things were somewhat tense between them. Oikawa was sure Iwaizumi was attracted to him, and he knew for a fact the feeling was mutual. The day following their practice was beautiful and sunny. Iwaizumi had just put the coffee pot on and sat down to clean the Glock again when Oikawa walked up to him. 

“Can I try the shotgun?”

Iwaizumi stopped. “Um, no. How about you start with the handguns, get fairly decent with handling them first? Then you can try the shotgun.”

Oikawa pouted. He forgot the pouting the second the coffee maker beeped. “You made coffee?!”

“I did. So?” Iwaizumi still wasn’t quite sure what it was about the coffee that got Oikawa riled up, but it was sort of hilarious. (And slightly arousing.) 

Shut up, brain.

Oikawa braced himself on the table, leaning close to Iwaizumi. “You teach me how to shoot, and you make me spectacular coffee. It’s like you want me to drag you upstairs,” he said, keeping his voice low and sultry. 

For a moment, Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if he was bluffing. (Two can play chicken.) He leaned in, enough so that their noses were nearly touching. “You’re still not touching the shotgun,” he whispered, then leaned back to enjoy the dumbfounded look on Oikawa’s face.

Oikawa straightened out, staring at Iwaizumi with a small blush on his cheeks. “You’re a tease, Iwa-chan,” he huffed and stepped away to make himself a cup of coffee.

“Make me a cup as well,” Iwaizumi smirked. 

They sat quietly drinking their coffees for a while. Iwaizumi was reading a magazine absently after finishing with the gun, while Oikawa’s mind was forming another brilliant idea.

“Iwa-chan,” he shuffled his feet, “would you mind teaching me some self-defence, too?”

Iwaizumi looked up, blinking. “Self-defence?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa leaned on his elbows. “Something simple, like how to throw a proper punch or what to do if someone grabs me, that kind of stuff.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “I’m probably not the best person to teach that,” he hesitated. “I can try.”

Oikawa smiled. “That’s all I ask.”

They finished their coffees and moved outside. Iwaizumi stretched his arms, instructing Oikawa to do the same before starting.

“Right,” Iwaizumi started, setting his feet slightly apart and centering his balance. “Let’s start with the punching. Try to punch me.”

Oikawa frowned, moving to stand in front of Iwaizumi. “Seriously?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Come on. Punch me.” He pointed to his jaw. 

Shrugging, Oikawa balled up his fist and threw it at Iwaizumi’s face. 

The black-haired man easily deflected the fist with his forearm and lightly slapped Oikawa’s cheek simultaneously. 

Oikawa gasped, his hand flying to his cheek. 

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Punishment. Put your weight behind your punch. If you’re deflected, try something else.”

After a few tries and a few more slaps, Oikawa was starting to get pissed off. His cheeks were pink, from both slaps and embarrassment. Punching someone wasn’t supposed to be this hard! 

He took out his frustration by going for a kick. Iwaizumi dodged the kick simply enough and pulled his hand back for another slap when Oikawa surprised him by finally landing a punch to the corner of his mouth.

They stood still, staring at each other in silence. Iwaizumi’s lip twitched, and he allowed a grin to slip over his face. Oikawa grinned back hesitantly.

“Well,” Iwaizumi touched where Oikawa’s fist had struck, pulling his hand back to see a drop of blood. He raised an eyebrow at the culprit, flicking his tongue out to lick at the tiny cut on his lip. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”

It turned out that Oikawa couldn’t. After ten more minutes of getting slapped Oikawa decided he’d had enough. 

Iwaizumi was snickering. “Alright. Come on, I’ll show you something else,” he grabbed Oikawa’s shoulders, turning his back towards himself. 

“Iwa-chan?” The taller man glanced over his shoulder in confusion. 

He was even more confused when Iwaizumi stepped directly behind him and wrapped his arms around him in a tight bear hug. 

“Imagine someone grabs you like this. What do you do?”

Oikawa’s heart was pounding. He could feel Iwaizumi’s breath on his neck, the tightness of his arms around him, the comforting warmth of the strong body behind him. “Uh, scream?” He suggested, slightly turning his head back. 

Iwaizumi tightened his arms a fraction. “Turns out no one’s around to hear you scream. Then what?”

Oikawa squirmed, trying to get his arms free. “Any helpful suggestions?”

“Drop your weight. It’ll be hard to hold on to you if your center of gravity is lower than theirs. Bring your legs in,” Iwaizumi instructed patiently. “After that, you stomp their feet. Then you see if you can get your arms free. If you can, use your elbows. Once your attacker’s struggling to keep their hold on you, grab whichever arm’s the easiest, move to your side and just throw them down. Use your full body, and their weight against them. When they’re down, you run. Don’t look back, just run until you’re safe.”

Oikawa nodded. “Do you want me to do that now?” He asked, thinking the instructions over. 

Iwaizumi shifted slightly behind him, as if he was bracing himself. “Act as if this was real. I’ll try act like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll try my best, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sing-songed, taking a deep breath before wholeheartedly struggling against Iwaizumi’s hold. 

He brought his knees in, and felt Iwaizumi struggle with his grip on him. Oikawa bit his lip, focusing. He pushed his foot down with all his weight, refusing to stop when he heard Iwaizumi swear under his breath. 

He felt the arms around him loosen up, and he managed to free his arms. He elbowed Iwaizumi, ignoring the responding grunt. The brown-haired man then grabbed Iwaizumi’s arm, stepped back and to the side and bent over, feeling Iwaizumi roll with him and hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

Oikawa threw his hands into the air, whooping excitedly. “I did it!”

Iwaizumi groaned quietly, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, you did,” he agreed, then moved his jaw around. Oikawa’s elbow had hit him good. 

Oikawa gasped, dropping to his knees next to him. “I’m so sorry! Does it hurt? How’s your foot?” He fussed, not knowing where to put his hands first. 

A blur of motion later, he found himself flat on his back with Iwaizumi pinning him down with a smirk. 

“I thought I told you to run?” He asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. 

Oikawa gasped in mock outrage. “Iwa-chan! You tricked me!” He tried pulling his hands free, but was unsuccessful. 

“That’s what happens if you don’t pay attention,” Iwaizumi replied coolly, smirking only inches above him. 

Their proximity was once again wreaking havoc in Oikawa’s stomach. He felt his cheeks heat up, and he tried to pretend that he wasn’t probably imitating a ripe tomato right now. He spared a quick glance to Iwaizumi’s lips before focusing back on the dark green eyes staring back at him. “I’m definitely paying attention now,” he whispered. 

Iwaizumi took a breath, about to say something when he seemed to revise this plan and sat up instead, releasing Oikawa. “I think we should take a break,” he said, standing up and offering a hand to help Oikawa up as well.

 

 

After the practice, Oikawa went inside to take a little nap. He lied on the bed, thinking about things. How he’d ended up in this ridiculous situation, if he was going to get out of this alive… and Iwaizumi. 

He covered his face with a pillow and screamed out his frustration. What was he supposed to do?! Here was a man who, despite the abnormality of the situation, didn’t treat him like glass, was kind to him, was a good cook, made heavenly coffee, felt so good against him… 

He couldn’t handle it anymore, being around Iwaizumi and not knowing where they stood. It was ridiculous, really, he’d only met the man a few days ago, but… it felt different. 

 

 

While Oikawa was failing at taking a nap upstairs, Iwaizumi was in the kitchen, glaring at the still-broken faucet. He wanted to blame it for all his problems. If he tried hard enough, he probably could attribute some of the blame on the unfortunate appliance. 

He grabbed the screwdriver with a sigh, going about fixing it properly this time. He focused on the task, not forcing the tool like last time he’d attempted this. After ten or so minutes of fucking about, he managed to get the misshapen screw somewhat straightened. He reattached the rest of the parts, and gave himself an actual pat on the back when it worked smoothly. “Well done, me,” he muttered.

He stared at the faucet again, sighing. He wished everything was as simple as that little operation had turned out to be. 

The phone on the table began buzzing, distracting him from thinking about a certain accountant. He grabbed the phone and stepped outside to speak. “Iwaizumi.”

_“How’s it going?”_

Suga. Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Want the honest answer or the official one?”

_“I’d prefer the honest one.”_

“I might’ve fucked up,” he admitted, looking at some birds flying over the yard. 

_“What? As in, your security is compromised and you need to be evacuated immediately, or as in You’re compromised?”_

“The second one, Jesus, Suga,” he rolled his eyes, hearing the short snicker from the other end. “I’d let you guys know if it was the first one.”

_“I know. So, tell me about it?”_

“Before that, is there a reason you called?” He sat down on the steps, bracing his elbows on his knees.

_“Oh no, this is purely a social call. Daichi and the others are working hard to apprehend Pierce and his guys, Akaashi’s looking into the police department. He thinks the mole might be one of them.”_

“Right,” Iwaizumi filed away the information. “Thanks for that.”

_“You’re welcome. Now, tell me why you think you fucked up. And spare no detail.”_

If Iwaizumi hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought Suga was laughing at him. “I’m having trouble keeping things professional. As in, I have to try to keep my hands to myself. As in, if the situation wasn’t what it is, I would’ve probably fucked his brains out by now.”

The wonderful thing about being friends with your co-workers was that you could be brutally honest with them, and they wouldn’t hold it against you. Probably. 

_“Oh, dear. And is this sentiment mutual?”_

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Iwaizumi grumbled, resting his forehead on his free hand. “The blatant propositioning aside, I can tell there’s something there.”

_“That’s what she said.”_

Iwaizumi snorted, but laughed nonetheless, hearing Suga crack up on the other end. “Seriously?! I’m baring my soul here!”

_“I’m sorry, it was right there! I had to!”_

Once he calmed down from his laughing fit, Suga sighed. _“Alright, no more bad jokes. I wish I could tell you to just go for it, but there’s the possibility that he’s—“_

“Projecting something, I’m well aware,” Iwaizumi cut Suga off. Basic psychology: someone saves your life, you think you love them. That was simplifying it a little much, but that’s what Iwaizumi was good at. “What do I do, Suga? Do I just… Not do anything?”

_“As your colleague and superior, that is my advice. As your friend, however… Do what you feel is right. Consequences be damned.”_

“You know, I don’t think Daichi would appreciate you basically telling me to get some,” Iwaizumi noted, smiling slightly. He didn’t usually talk about, well, anything, but it did seem to help.

_“What Daichi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, I’m sure he’d agree with me when I say it’s been way too long since you hooked up with someone.”_

“Why am I friends with you?” Iwaizumi groaned, shaking his head.

_“We’re the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you know it. Who knows, maybe Oikawa’s going to be the second best thing. Look, as much as I’d like to talk to you, I have some actual work I should be doing. I need to locate our dear Evac team, their rabies shots are overdue.”_

Iwaizumi flinched, subconsciously rubbing his shoulder. “Noya definitely needs one, so I’ll let you get back to it, then. Thanks.”

_“Anytime. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”_

Suga hung up before Iwaizumi had time to make a reply. He pocketed the phone with a slight shake of his head. “Doesn’t exactly limit the options at all,” he muttered. 

He went back inside, opting for a short nap before getting started on dinner.

 

After a shared dinner, Iwaizumi had secured movie choosing rights for the night (“No, we’re not watching another alien movie, Jesus!”) and picked out a horror movie.

“Why do you like horror movies?” Oikawa asked. It was thirty minutes into the film, and he was creeped out as hell. 

Iwaizumi shrugged, taking a sip of bourbon. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s something about it not being even remotely real that gets me.”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “And how’s that different from alien movies?” He asked, slightly miffed about not getting to choose a movie.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at him. “The universe is too big to think we’re the only ones around. Don’t get carried away, I think it’s pretty fucking unlikely that we’ll ever make contact with any aliens.”

Oikawa hummed in agreement. “I like the way you think, Iwa-chan. But I think I get why you like horror films instead of action.” He snickered when Iwaizumi protested mildly. 

“I get tired of pointing out inaccuracies in them after a while,” he eventually admitted. He glanced at his glass before downing what was left in it. “Ugh. I hate bourbon.”

Oikawa snorted. “Then why are you drinking it?”

“Because Suga’s cheap, and doesn’t buy scotch,” Iwaizumi grumbled, much to Oikawa’s amusement. 

The brown-haired man glanced at his own glass. He was drinking red wine. It was a fantastic Malbec. Iwaizumi didn’t know what he was missing out on, drinking his cheap bourbon. 

“Want some wine?” He offered his glass.

Iwaizumi shook his head, leaning forward to pour himself another two fingers. “This isn’t my favourite, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have it.”

Oikawa laughed. “Do you guys use this house often?”

“When we’re in the area,” Iwaizumi nodded. “It’s a nice place to wait stuff out.”

“Or keep someone from being killed,” Oikawa said quietly. 

Iwaizumi looked at him for a moment. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Or that.”

Oikawa made up his mind. Slowly and deliberately, he set his glass on the table. He reached over, gently pried Iwaizumi’s glass from him and set it down next to his glass. 

“Oikawa, what…” Iwaizumi was confused, until Oikawa moved to straddle him. “Oikawa.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa imitated him. He made himself comfortable in Iwaizumi’s lap, settling his hands on the other’s shoulders. He leaned in, their foreheads almost touching. “You can’t tell me I’m imagining this.”

There was a tense silence between them. It went on until Iwaizumi sighed and hesitantly set his hands on Oikawa’s hips. “You’re not,” he said softly. 

With a smile, Oikawa let his forehead touch Iwaizumi’s. “Then why are you fighting it?”

“I’m supposed to be professional,” Iwaizumi muttered. “I can’t be objective if I’m… involved.”

“Objectivity is overrated, anyway,” Oikawa huffed. He was aching to kiss Iwaizumi. He was so close. 

“Maybe it is, but not if it keeps people alive,” Iwaizumi’s hands gave Oikawa’s hips a tiny squeeze, which made Oikawa sigh and roll his hips a tiny bit closer. The responding sharp breath from Iwaizumi made him roll his hips again. 

“Oikawa, you have to stop,” Iwaizumi said. His brain wasn’t clearly sending the message to his hands, though, because they moved up to Oikawa’s waist. 

God, he’s hot, Oikawa thought. “Do you really want me to stop?” He asked, their lips almost touching now. 

Iwaizumi was quiet. He watched Oikawa through half-lidded eyes, his brow furrowing. “No,” he whispered after what seemed like eternity. He moved one hand slowly upwards, trailing his shaking fingers over Oikawa’s ribs and chest, eventually ending up cupping his cheek.

Oikawa leaned into the touch. “Is it so bad to want to be with someone?” 

“It shouldn’t be,” Iwaizumi sighed, caressing Oikawa’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Are you aware that you’re annoyingly attractive?”

“Yes, I am,” Oikawa drawled with a smile. “You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to take you upstairs.”

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to take you up on that. Can I…?” Iwaizumi’s thumb moved over Oikawa’s lips as if asking for permission.

“Yes,” Oikawa breathed, and closed the distance between their lips softly.

The soft and hesitant touch quickly turned heated. Oikawa ran his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair, shifting his hips until their chests touched. Iwaizumi’s hand tightened on his waist before moving back down to grip his hip.

Encouraged by Iwaizumi’s actions, Oikawa began slowly rolling his hips against Iwaizumi’s. His efforts were rewarded with an absolutely filthy groan from Iwaizumi. He smiled against the other’s lips, pulling back enough for them to catch their breaths. 

Iwaizumi opened his eyes, not sure when he’d closed them in the first place. He looked at Oikawa, whose chest was heaving with heavy breathing and cheeks flushed with colour. He watched how the chocolate-brown eyes opened and looked at him warmly. 

The look in Oikawa’s eyes was what snapped Iwaizumi’s brain back into professional mode. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” he shook his head, biting his lip and lifting the now dumbfounded Oikawa off his lap and back onto the couch. 

“W-what?” Oikawa stuttered, shifting back to get some distance between them. “What do you mean ‘I can’t do this’?”

Iwaizumi leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. “I mean exactly that,” Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his forehead before looking at Oikawa again. “Look. You’ve been through a lot in the past few days, and it’s bound to be confusing.”

“Wait a fucking minute,” Oikawa interrupted him. He was starting to get angry. “Are you saying I’m ‘confused’?”

Iwaizumi lifted his hands defensively. “No. That’s not what I meant,” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What I mean is that you might be… projecting something towards me, and it wouldn’t be right of me to take advantage of that.”

Oikawa stared at him incredulously. “Excuse me? Taking adva— you know what? It’s fine. You’re obviously not into me. You could’ve just said so,” he huffed, getting to his feet and circling around the couch, having decided to lock himself into the bedroom until further notice. 

“No, that’s not— Oikawa,” Iwaizumi stood up and turned to stop him. He was about to grab a hold of Oikawa’s shirt when the laptop started blaring an alarm.

Not their Netflix-laptop. The laptop Suga had left. The one with the proximity alarms set to 200 meters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research about self-defence manoeuvres and such, so I hope that's somewhat accurate.  
> Things will pick up next time, thanks for reading!


	5. Nasty Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shit hits the fan. Figuratively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be about done editing the rest of this fic. Possibly. 
> 
> Eh. Continuing from where we left off...

The alarm blared, interrupting their argument.

Iwaizumi froze, staring at the device. Oikawa whirled around on his heels, blocking his ears. “What the hell is that?!”

Iwaizumi turned to him, immediately in business-mode. “Uninvited guests. Go to the kitchen, there’s a—“

His eyes widened when he saw a small red dot appear on Oikawa’s chest. 

It only took him a fraction of a second to know what that dot meant, and to react to it. He tackled Oikawa to the floor, right before a hole appeared in the window behind them and a bullet hit the wall. 

“What the—“, Oikawa grunted, before a hail of bullets hitting the walls and furniture around them interrupted him. Iwaizumi used his body to cover him from splinters and debris flying through the air. 

“The kitchen!” Iwaizumi grunted, pointing towards the table. “There’s a trap door under the table, go!” He rolled off of Oikawa once the bullets stopped momentarily.

“What about you?” Oikawa asked, getting onto his hands and knees, flinching every time a bullet hit the wall. 

Iwaizumi shook his head. “I’ll be right behind you, I have to slow them down first,” he said, already moving towards the crate next to the couch. 

Oikawa shook his head. “I can help, I can’t just leave—“

“Go!” Iwaizumi yelled, grabbing his Glock and shooting back through the window. Oikawa frowned, but clenched his jaw and headed to the kitchen, staying as low as he could.

Iwaizumi glanced up, shooting the lights out and plunging them into darkness. He used the momentary relief to grab the other pistol from the crate, tucking it into his pants before grabbing the Mossberg and dashing towards the cleaning cupboard in the kitchen. 

The window shattered when something was thrown in. The round object hit the floor and rolled into the kitchen. Iwaizumi kicked it into the living room instinctively and took cover behind the flimsy cupboard door. 

When the grenade blew up somewhere behind the couch, Iwaizumi looked at the trap door. It was open, but he couldn’t see Oikawa.

Iwaizumi cursed, grabbing a couple of grenades from the cupboard before crouching down and peering into the tunnel. “Oikawa?”

A second later, Oikawa’s concerned face appeared. “Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi sighed in relief, putting the grenades down on the floor and holding the shotgun out to Oikawa. “Hold that for me?” 

Oikawa took the shotgun, and the pistol Iwaizumi passed down to him next. He was about to say something when there were shouts coming from outside, near the living room.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi hissed, looking into the living room. He looked back down at Oikawa. “If I go down, you take these,” he moved the grenades closer to the trap door, “take the pin out, count to three and throw them into the living room, or anywhere there are people.”

He pulled the phone out from his pocket, giving it to Oikawa. “Then you shut this door and start running. Call Daichi, his number is number one on speed dial. He’ll tell you what to do next.”

Oikawa shook his head. “I’m not leaving you,” he set his jaw stubbornly.

Iwaizumi leaned down, grabbing Oikawa's shirt collar and pulling him in for a kiss. He pulled away, keeping his hand in place as he looked into Oikawa’s eyes. “Here’s hoping you won’t have to,” he said softly before getting back on his feet and heading back into the living room. 

He made it just in time to shoot the two figures who were climbing in through the window. “Just so you know, I’ll kill everyone who comes in!” Iwaizumi yelled, taking cover behind the bookshelf and aiming at the windows. 

“Send the accountant out, and we’ll stay here, then!” Came the response. 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Try again, asshole!”

Another grenade was thrown in. “Fuck!” Iwaizumi hissed as he pulled the bookshelf down and threw himself to the floor. He felt the heat of the blast as he covered the back of his head from debris. 

He got up in time to see two guys jump in through the window. Iwaizumi cursed, bringing his gun up a little too late. The gun was kicked from his hand as the two men attacked him. 

Iwaizumi fought them as much as he was able to, with his back to the wall and movements limited by the same bookshelf he’d used as cover. When he wasn’t fast enough to dodge a kick to his ribs, he was pretty sure he was fucked. The second his guard was down, one of the men grabbed his hair and slammed his head against the wall. 

Iwaizumi grunted, his head throbbing from the impact. His arms were then grabbed and he was yanked back, one of the men standing behind him now. The second man took out a knife, twirling it in his fingers. 

“What’re ya gonna do now, superspy?” He leered, laughing with the other man. 

Iwaizumi hated these types of guys. The minute they think they’re on top, they get too arrogant. It was exactly what happened to these two morons, as well. He wasn’t completely fucked, after all. 

“How’s this, motherfucker?” He asked, then suddenly threw his head back, effectively headbutting the man behind him. Judging from the sudden scream and the oddly satisfying crunch, he broke a nose. He didn’t get to enjoy the moment, though, as the other man threw his arm back in a wide arch in an attempt to stab him. Iwaizumi kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying almost across the room. 

Once the man with the knife was momentarily away, Iwaizumi took the time to make sure the guy with the broken nose wouldn’t be getting up. He whirled around and brutally kicked him in the crotch. As the guy doubled over with a pained groan, he added insult to injury by grabbing his head and kneeing him in the face. The guy was unconscious before he hit the ground. 

Iwaizumi turned back around just in time to see the guy with the knife a little too close for comfort. Before he was able to do anything, though, a single shot rang out. 

The guy fell on Iwaizumi. He looked at Iwaizumi breathlessly for a moment before he fell down, the knife clattering to the floor. 

Oikawa stood by the doorway, keeping the pistol Iwaizumi had given him aimed at the now dead thug. Iwaizumi looked at him.

Oikawa shrugged. “Do you think we could go now?” He asked, nodding towards the trap door. 

Iwaizumi nodded with a grin, taking a moment to grab the gun he’d dropped before stepping over to Oikawa and herding him back towards the kitchen. “Thanks. That was a good shot. I’m impressed.”

“I had a good teacher,” Oikawa quipped, flashing Iwaizumi a smile before dropping himself down into the tunnel. 

Before he closed the trap door, Iwaizumi armed the grenades. They blew up after he’d shut the door, bringing the kitchen down on the door. “They’ll have a fun time digging us up through that,” he said to Oikawa, nudging him towards the tunnel. “Let’s go, the exit’s about two kilometres out.”

 

They walked in tense silence for a moment, with Oikawa manning the flashlight. Iwaizumi had let him keep the pistol while keeping the shotgun and two other pistols on himself. 

After the first kilometre, Oikawa stopped. Iwaizumi heard him stop, and turned around to look at him. “Why’d you stop? Are you okay?” He asked, suddenly on edge. (Fuck, did you miss something? Is he hurt?)

“I’m not projecting anything.”

Iwaizumi froze. This was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. He sighed. “Look, Oikawa…”

“No, you look,” Oikawa interrupted him, waving the flashlight around. “You can’t tell me how I feel. You have no idea how I feel.”

Iwaizumi stayed quiet. Oikawa grit his teeth, stepping closer. “You make me feel safe. Not just because you’re strong and can obviously take care of yourself and me, but just by being you. I know I’ve only known you a few days, but to be completely honest? I don’t know what I’m going to do when this is all over if I can’t see you anymore.”

Oikawa shook his head, shrugging. “If it’s just me, fine. I’ll deal. But if there’s even the slightest chance that you have some feelings for me, I have to know.”

Iwaizumi’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. 

Oikawa stepped closer. “You said I wasn’t imagining it. Was that true?” He asked, standing only another step away. 

The black-haired man made up his mind. He looked into Oikawa’s eyes. “Yes,” he finally said, not trusting his voice with a longer response. 

Oikawa smiled. “Okay. Do you think we could, maybe, talk about this? After this whole thing over, I mean?” He asked hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. 

Iwaizumi nodded, letting a small smile appear on his face. “Sure. Come on, we’ve still got another kilometre to go.”

 

They eventually reached the car Suga had told Iwaizumi about. It was a black sedan with tinted windows. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Well isn’t this inconspicuous,” he muttered, doing a brief check of the car’s surroundings with the flashlight. He peeked down and checked under it, to make sure there weren’t any more surprises.

“Alright, get in,” he nodded, getting to his feet and opening the driver’s side door. Oikawa walked around the car and sat down on the passenger seat, sighing once he sunk onto the comfortable seat. 

Iwaizumi sat on the driver’s seat. He glanced at Oikawa. “The keys are in the glove box, would you give them to me?”

Oikawa opened the glove compartment, staring at the contents in a decidedly unimpressed manner. “Um, there’s three phones. Oh, there they are,” he said, digging out the keys from behind the phones and handing them to Iwaizumi. “Phones everywhere,” he muttered. He glanced at the backseat out of habit, raising an eyebrow at the pair of binoculars on the seat.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi said, starting the car and making sure the lights were out. “Hey, speaking of phones, can you call Daichi and put him on speaker?”

Oikawa took Iwaizumi’s phone from his pocket, hissing when he saw what time it was. “Iwa-chan, it’s almost two o’clock. Are you sure he’s awake?”

“If he’s not, we’ll wake him up,” Iwaizumi shrugged, looking at the road in front of him. (‘Road’, my ass, this is a fucking hiking trail.)

With a shrug, Oikawa hit ‘1’ on speed dial and set the phone to speaker. After only one ring, it was picked up. 

_“Iwaizumi? What’s going on? All the alarms in the house and outside went haywire.”_

“We got attacked,” Iwaizumi explained briefly. “Can you guys find out how the hell they knew where we were?”

_“Shit! Both of you okay?”_

“We’re fine,” Oikawa piped up, glancing at Iwaizumi with a grin. 

_“Glad to hear it, Oikawa-san. I’m assuming you took the sedan?”_

“Yeah. I’m thinking we hit up a motel or something, nothing too close, though,” Iwaizumi said. They drove out of the woods, and Iwaizumi headed away from the house. 

_“Sounds good. I’m activating the GPS on the car, we’ll keep tabs on you. Do you need an evac? I can have them in the air in ten minutes flat.”_

Iwaizumi shook his head despite the fact that Daichi couldn’t see him. “Negative. We’re fine. We’ll go to a motel, hopefully keep moving tomorrow.”

_“Alright, it’s your call. We’ll look into things here. I’ll let you know what we find out.”_

“Affirmative,” Iwaizumi agreed. “Keep in touch,” he reached over and ended the call.

Oikawa put the phone back into his pocket and leaned back on his seat. He felt tired. “Iwa-chan, do you mind if I take a nap?” He yawned. 

Iwaizumi nodded. “Of course not, I’ll wake you up when we get there,” he said, emphasizing his words with a smile. 

 

He woke Oikawa up an hour later. “Hey,” he gently shook the brown-haired man’s shoulder. “Wake up. We’re here. Let’s get a room, get you a bed to sleep in.”

Oikawa opened his eyes with a yawn. “Alright,” he agreed sleepily, unbuckling himself. 

Iwaizumi thought a sleepy Oikawa was maybe the cutest thing he’d ever seen. 

They got a room near their car, and Iwaizumi checked it thoroughly before letting Oikawa further inside the room. Oikawa immediately face-planted on the bed. 

Then he realized that it was a bed, singular. Not bed _s_ , plural. 

He rolled onto his back and raised himself up on his elbows, watching Iwaizumi as he placed their guns onto the small table before dragging an armchair in front of the door. 

“Iwa-chan,” He began, “do not tell me you’re going to sleep in that,” he pointed at the armchair. 

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, pulling another armchair to sit opposite of the first one. “Um, yes, I will,” he replied, grabbing the Glock from the table before sitting down and making himself comfortable. 

Oikawa shook his head, sitting up properly. “No. Absolutely not. I will not stand for this buffoonery,” he got up, stepped over to Iwaizumi and grabbed his hand. “Come on, to the bed with you.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “If I’m close to the door, I can—“

Oikawa slapped a hand over his mouth. “Iwa-chan. If you sleep on that chair, you’ll destroy your back and you’ll be of no use because you’ll be sore,” he persuaded. “Come on. One night isn’t going to kill you.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, removing Oikawa’s hand from his mouth. “Fine. But the chairs stay in front of the door,” he said, getting up and moving the chairs to cover the door better. 

Oikawa grinned happily as he pulled back the covers, toeing off his shoes while at it. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

"Just so you know," Iwaizumi muttered as he toed off his shoes, "a chair isn't even the worst place I've slept in."

They settled in side-by-side. The bed was a queen, so while they both had “their side”, there really wasn’t much space between them. Not that either of them minded. Oikawa fell asleep fairly quickly, but it took Iwaizumi a while, as it usually did on when he was on a job.

Around an hour after Iwaizumi had finally fallen into an uneasy sleep, he was woken up by a twitch from Oikawa.

“Oikawa?” He whispered, raising himself up to his elbows and looking down at Oikawa.

The younger man looked distressed. A frown was set on his forehead and he seemed to be having a nightmare. 

Iwaizumi poked his shoulder. “Oikawa,” he called quietly. “Wake up.” He repeated the words a few times, until Oikawa woke up and sat up with a start. 

Oikawa was breathing heavily, his eyes wide and wild. Iwaizumi regarded him carefully. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

Oikawa glanced at him before rubbing his eyes. “Uh, yeah,” he stammered. “Fine. Just a dream.” He was shaking like a leaf.

Iwaizumi sat up as well. “You… wanna talk about it?” He asked, hesitating slightly. He was rubbish at comforting. 

Oikawa shook his head. “No, not really,” he pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them close.

After watching Oikawa’s posture for a moment, Iwaizumi made a decision. “Come on,” he said softly, setting an arm over Oikawa’s shoulders before gently reaching over and detaching Oikawa’s arms from around his knees. Slowly, he laid them both back down, keeping an arm on Oikawa’s shoulders as he settled on his back with Oikawa on his chest. 

Oikawa immediately brought a hand up to grasp Iwaizumi’s shirt, tucking himself closer and resting his head on Iwaizumi’s chest, listening to his heartbeats. Iwaizumi shifted slightly to make them both more comfortable before setting his other arm around Oikawa as well.

“I didn’t know Iwa-chan was a cuddler,” Oikawa teased. 

Iwaizumi flicked his ear as punishment. “Shut up,” he muttered, breathing deep and closing his eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love happy endings? Too bad we ain't there yet. See you next time, thanks for reading!


	6. Car trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clothes shopping leads to some difficulties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another victim of my compulsive editing. It was originally two chapters, but I wasn't (again) happy with the length of either, so I just combined them. 
> 
> Also, there would've been a cliffhanger again. I hate those.

Oikawa woke up to find that his pillow was moving. Upon closer inspection, it seemed like his pillow wasn’t a pillow at all. It was a chest. The chest that was attached to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi's chest.

Oikawa lifted his head, blinking. “Um.”

“It’s way too early for your shit, go back to sleep,” Iwaizumi said gruffly, sighing before loosening his hold on Oikawa. 

Oikawa stared at the man beneath him for another moment, then laid back down, snuggling as close as he figured he could get away with. He fell back asleep to the sound of Iwaizumi’s steady breath. 

Iwaizumi woke up again a couple of hours later. Oikawa was snoring quietly, and Iwaizumi was amused and fleetingly disgusted to see that he was even drooling a bit in his sleep.  


He came to the startling realization that he might not mind waking up to this exact sight more often. He ran a hand through his hair, deeming that a shower was desperately needed. As gently as he could, he rolled Oikawa off him and onto the bed, and watched as the man immediately clung to a pillow, sighing happily. 

Iwaizumi shook his head with a smile, getting out of bed and stretching his arms over his head before he went into the small bathroom. 

He stood under the hot water, questioning his life choices for a few precious moments before washing himself quickly and turning off the water. After he’d dried himself off and put his pants back on, he glanced in the mirror, and cursed quietly at what he saw. 

His earlier bruises were now purple with slight greenish tinge, which Iwaizumi remembered meant that they’d started healing. The new ones he’d received last night were a mix of blue and red. He especially liked the shoe-shaped one on his ribs. Iwaizumi shook his head. At least there weren’t any cuts this time. 

Oikawa was already awake when Iwaizumi stepped back into the main room. His eyes widened at the sight of Iwaizumi’s shirtless self, but instead of obnoxiously ogling his body again, his attention was in the same bruises Iwaizumi had just inspected. “You’re hurt! Why didn’t you say something?!” He scrambled out of bed and almost fell on his face because the sheets tangled in his legs.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s antics, taking a whiff of his t-shirt. “Because they’re just bruises, no big deal,” he said, eyeing the shirt suspiciously before shrugging and pulling it on anyway. 

Oikawa stared at him. “Are you even human?!”

 

Oikawa refused to wear the same clothes for more than two days in a row. When Iwaizumi pointed out that it was, in fact, only the second day of wearing the same clothes, Oikawa gave him a very impressive glare. 

It would’ve been more impressive had Iwaizumi not been used to glares of a much more terrifying level. (The Patented Daichi Glare of Death by Paperwork, for example.)

“Please, Iwa-chan?” He whined, walking around the room while Iwaizumi sat on the bed shaking his head. “It’s basic hygiene! There has to be some kind of a store that sells clothes around here, somewhere!”

“No. There’s a guy out there trying to kill you, remember?”

Oikawa groaned. “Of course I do! You’d be coming with me, silly!”

“What, so he could kill me instead? No!” Iwaizumi argued. 

Oikawa sighed, and got on his knees in front of Iwaizumi. “Please. Just one goddamn trip to a store. I won’t ask for anything after that,” he practically begged. 

Iwaizumi frowned. Truth be told, he was getting a little antsy as well. “You know what? Fine,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let’s go to the damn store.”

Oikawa stared at him for a moment in astonishment before breaking out in a bright smile. “Yes! Iwa-chan, you’re the best!”

Iwaizumi rubbed his temples. “Shut up, get your ass in the car. We'll come back to change, then we're leaving town.” 

Ten minutes after they were gone, his phone, which he’d forgotten on the bed, rang. Several times.

 

Oikawa was ecstatic. Granted, the first store Iwaizumi had spotted had happened to be a goddamn WalMart of all things, but Oikawa took what he could get. He was humming nonsensical tunes while going through rack after rack of clothes. 

Iwaizumi was tapping his foot impatiently next to him. “Are you done soon? Just pick a few shirts, what’s so hard about that?”

Oikawa turned on his heels with a teasing grin. “Iwa-chan, are you my mom?” He backpedalled immediately when Iwaizumi’s eyes flashed with anger. “Erm, nevermind!” He dove into the jungle of discount clothes.

“This was a horrible idea,” Iwaizumi mumbled as he looked around. 

As expected, Oikawa re-emerged with a handful of clothes. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at his enthusiasm, and led them to the drink department, where he picked up a bottle of scotch, Johnnie Walker Blue Label to be specific.

Oikawa raised an eyebrow at his selection. Iwaizumi shrugged. “The only goddamn scotch in the goddamn store.”

“Right,” Oikawa commented, pointing at the price tag with a raised eyebrow.

Iwaizumi grinned cheekily. “I’m using the company card. I don’t care about the price.”

Oikawa snickered, nodding approvingly before he grabbed a bottle of top-shelf vodka to accompany the whiskey. Now it was Iwaizumi’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

Oikawa imitated Iwaizumi, his shrug and cheeky grin flawlessly executed. “I’m more of a vodka-man, myself.”

Iwaizumi allowed a small chuckle to escape before leading them to the cashier. He paid for all their stuff, shaking his head at the amount of clothes Oikawa had managed to gather in a relatively short amount of time. 

They stepped out of the store and headed for their car. The hair at the back of Iwaizumi’s neck stood, and a chill ran through him. He tensed up, and touched Oikawa’s arm to get his attention. As the man glanced at him curiously, Iwaizumi leaned in to speak quietly to him. “Take these,” he slipped the car keys into Oikawa’s hand. 

Oikawa frowned, holding the keys. “Why? Am I driving?”

“You’re gonna have to,” Iwaizumi said. He felt the Glock against the small of his back, where he’d tucked it into his waistband. He took a breath and braced himself mentally before grabbing the Glock and turning on his heels, aiming it at one of the three men walking towards them. He dropped the shopping bag he’d been holding and stepped in front of Oikawa, putting himself between him and the men.

The three stopped and produced weapons from behind their backs, pointing them at the two of them.

Iwaizumi made a note of the two sub-machine guns and the shotgun before giving the men holding them his attention.

“Hello, gentlemen. Heckler and Koch. MP5s? And you’ve got an FP6?” Iwaizumi asked them conversationally, keeping his aim at the man closest to them. “Move towards the car, slowly,” he instructed Oikawa quietly, taking a few steps back. Oikawa obeyed, looking behind them every now and then to make sure the coast was clear.

“Good eye,” the man commended, giving Iwaizumi a small, approving nod. “Plenty more of these if you were working for us. Interested?”

“Sorry, I’m more of a Mossberg-guy, myself,” Iwaizumi said. He and Oikawa were fairly close to the car now. “The car’s bulletproof. When I say go, you use the remote to open the doors, get in, and start the engine. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay,” Oikawa nodded.

“I thought I’d have to actually make an effort to find you, but lucky for me, you walked right into my lap. If you hand him over, we won’t shoot you. Maybe,” the man smiled pleasantly. “Our boss would very much like a word with him.”

“I’m sure he would,” Iwaizumi admitted. “You can send him our regards instead. Go,” he said, firing a second after.

The next few moments were a blur. Oikawa ran to the car, got in, and started the engine, flinching every time a bullet hit the car. Iwaizumi, after having hit the guy in the neck, aimed for the other submachine gun. He’d been a fraction too late, as the guy started shooting when he did. He started running while shooting, which unfortunately affected his aim. 

He made it to the car and wrenched the back door open. He felt a bullet fly past him, and sure enough, one ended up in the opposite window. He fired a couple more shots before hopping in and yanking the door closed. “Drive!” He yelled to Oikawa, who gunned it as a reply.

Once he no longer heard bullets hit them, he let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on the seat. His ears were ringing. “Are you okay?” He asked, flicking the Glock’s safety back on.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Oikawa answered, voice shaking. “Am I driving back to the motel?”

“Just keep driving, we have to get out of town,” Iwaizumi replied, patting his pockets for his phone. “Fuck!”

“What?” Oikawa asked worriedly. 

“I forgot my phone in the fucking room,” Iwaizumi cursed. His neck was stinging, and he gingerly touched it with his hand. When he pulled it away, he saw blood. He leaned over the middle console and turned the rear-view mirror towards himself so he could see the damage.

“Iwa-chan, what’re y—are you bleeding?! Did you get hit?!” Oikawa yelled, seeing the bloody hand holding the mirror.

“It’s just a scratch, looks worse than it is,” Iwaizumi assured him, letting go of the mirror and sitting back. “Asshole got lucky,” he muttered, holding his hand to the surface wound. 

He looked at Oikawa, and recognized the fear in the man’s otherwise calm eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, “we’ll be fine. We’ll get Daichi on the…” Iwaizumi trailed off as realization dawned upon him. (You’re an idiot.) He manoeuvred himself to the front passenger seat. 

“What? ‘Daichi on the’ what, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked. “You can’t just start saying something and not—“

Oikawa stopped talking when Iwaizumi virtually attacked the glove compartment.

“Yes!” The black-haired man smiled, grabbing one of the two phones just sitting there. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad those two idiots keep forgetting their phones all over the place,” he smirked, opening the phone. He had to wait for it to finish updating itself (Kuroo has like 165 texts waiting for him, what the fuck) before he could dial Daichi’s number.

He picked up after half a ring. _“Iwaizumi?”_

“Hey, boss,” Iwaizumi greeted with a relieved smile. “How’s it going?”

_“I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour, is your phone on silent?! Bokuto picked up a trail for Pierce’s right-hand man, he’s in town, so I’m assuming Pierce isn’t far behind.“_

“Yeah, we kinda noticed,” Iwaizumi hissed, grabbing a couple of paper towels and holding them to his neck. “We went to the store, they were there. Just a coincidence, I think. Three guys. I’m pretty sure I got one.”

_“Jesus! You two okay? I sent Evac to your location, they should be there soon.”_

Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa, who was paying very close attention to the call. “We’re fine. ETA on Evac? I’d rather not have any more surpri—“

How neither of them saw the black Hummer before it T-boned them, Iwaizumi had no idea. All he knew was that they were hit, he dropped the phone, and then they were spinning away from the road.

 

He was hurting. 

There were muffled sounds coming from somewhere close by. Sharp pops, a voice yelling.

Oikawa opened his eyes slowly, looking around in a daze. The other door was open, and a figure was sitting up against it.

_Iwa-chan._

His hearing came back. The pops he’d heard were deafening gunshots, and the voice yelling was definitely Iwaizumi. 

More awareness seeped in, bringing more pain with it. His head was pounding and his leg probably wasn’t meant to bend like that. For some reason, though, he didn’t feel any panic. He was only calm. He came to the conclusion that it was probably a good thing he could feel all the pain, as it meant that he probably wasn’t paralyzed. 

He was lying in a decidedly uncomfortable position on the car’s roof. Looking around, he figured out that they must’ve flipped over. This clever deduction was helped by the fact that he saw the seats when he looked up. Both front doors were also open, for reasons his concussed brain couldn’t comprehend. 

He looked back at Iwaizumi. He couldn’t see his face, but the way his ankle was bent how he cradled his arm to his chest didn’t seem very positive. 

There was no more shooting. At least from Iwaizumi. Oikawa watched as a new pair of legs (presumably attached to a person) walked closer, stopping in front of Iwaizumi. A gun was dropped by the feet, with the tip of the barrel exposed. _Out of ammo,_ Oikawa’s brain supplied helpfully.

Iwaizumi was lifted to his feet by a less than gentle grip. Oikawa started to feel tendrils of panic reaching for him, but he stomped them down furiously. 

He spotted a black neck strap that was attached to the binoculars he'd seen before, now with cracked lenses. He grabbed them and began to crawl out of the car. His leg was throbbing with pain but he focused on their impending doom to ignore the pain. Weird thing was that it seemed to actually work. 

He managed to get out of the upturned vehicle unnoticed. He thought he heard the sound of a helicopter as he slowly got to his feet, leaning on the car to keep his weight off of his most likely broken leg. He held the strap in his shaking hands, and slowly made his way around the car. 

 

Iwaizumi was worried, hurting, and _fucking livid_. These assholes T-boned their car, sent them careening off the road and now they fucking dared to shoot at them? (Oh hell no.)

His heart skipped a beat when he glanced at Oikawa. The younger man wasn’t moving, nor were his eyes open. “No, no, no!" He reached for his neck, quickly feeling for his pulse, and was beyond relieved when he found one. “If you scare me like that again, I’ll kill you,” he sighed. 

He heard shouts from somewhere relatively close. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, grabbing his Glock. 

Iwaizumi ignored the splitting pain that seemed to be everywhere and, when he couldn’t open the door the usual way, kicked it open with the leg that hurt less. He crawled out, using the door as cover. He glanced around quickly, seeing two guys walk towards them with their guns out. 

“Are you still alive in there?” One of the men shouted with a laugh. 

With no warning, he leaned around enough to see them properly and shot them. They went down yelling. Iwaizumi felt odd satisfaction. “Surprise,” he yelled back. 

“How about you just give me what I want? I promise I’ll end you quickly,” came a new voice from the road. 

Pierce. 

Iwaizumi peeked around the door, and saw that the man was taking cover behind a car. There was no way he could get a clean shot. “Shit,” he hissed. “How about you fuck off instead?” He answered, ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth.

He counted seven men, Pierce excluded. He had seven bullets left. (It’s official. This is the worst day ever. The Madrid Debacle has nothing on this.)

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, taking the iniative and aiming for whoever he could without moving much people. Two of his shots went too wide, but he figured out he managed to at least injure the ones he'd counted. 

Iwaizumi dropped the gun and rested against the door, breathing heavily. He cradled his left arm to his chest. (Probably broken. Seriously, the WORST day.)

A man walked in front of him. “Why are you causing me so much trouble? Is it in your nature?”

Iwaizumi looked up at Pierce. “I like to think I have a delightful personality.”

The man gave a disappointed sigh. “You’ve killed a lot of my men. You should be ashamed of yourself. Are you?”

Iwaizumi spat out blood on the man’s shoes. “Take a wild fucking guess.”

He was picked up by his collar, and he couldn’t suppress a wince. The cool barrel of a gun was pressed beneath his jaw. 

He heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter landing. Very close.

He smiled. At least Oikawa would be safe. He was alive, and he would be safe soon.

“Do you realize what’s about to happen? I will shoot your brains out, then I will find that little rat and make sure he experiences some very painful things before he dies,” Pierce told him coldly. 

Iwaizumi flashed his bloody teeth at him. “You have no idea how wrong about that you are.” He closed his eyes. 

Oikawa would be alright. 

Just as he’d managed to accept his demise, there was a harsh sound that Iwaizumi recognized well. A blunt object hitting a skull, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. He opened his eyes. The grip Pierce had on his was gone and the man was lying unconscious on the ground.

He looked at the spot Pierce’s face had been seconds ago. He only saw Oikawa.

 

Oikawa stared back at him, breathing heavily and clutching the binoculars to his chest. He leaned on the car, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground.

Iwaizumi glanced at Pierce’s body and the binoculars before raising an eyebrow at Oikawa as he let himself drop down back against the door again.

“Where’d you find those?” He asked quietly.

The helicopter sound was now the sound of a cooling engine and running steps. Some yelling might’ve been involved. A lot of yelling, actually.

“They were on the floor. Or, the roof,” Oikawa said with a smile. “Did I do well?”

Iwaizumi chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, you did. But braining him with those? Seriously? With your miniscule arm strength?”

Oikawa shrugged. “I like a challenge,” he smirked.

“Iwaizumi-san! Are you two okay?!”

They looked up, and saw a tall, bearded man running to them with a medical bag. Iwaizumi waved his uninjured hand. “We’re breathing, if that constitutes as fine. You should restrain him first,” he nodded towards Pierce.

“It does not, Iwaizumi-san!” He cried out, kneeling in front of them. He secured cuffs on Pierce’s wrists and motioned two other men over to take him away. 

The man, despite his rough appearance, looked terrified after Pierce had been taken away. He looked at Oikawa. “Can I ask where it hurts the most?”

Oikawa, despite wanting to cave in, cry, and sleep for a week, raised his eyebrow. “I don’t know, can you?” 

Iwaizumi’s laughter was music to his ears, as was the man’s flustered stammering. 

Asahi (whatever his name was, Oikawa had already decided to call him Majestic Man Bun-kun in his head) patched up the scratch in Iwaizumi’s neck (“It’s just a scratch, relax.” “Do you realize how close it was to your carotid artery?!”) and put braces around both their necks despite their protests.

Asahi deemed Oikawa’s leg broken, and ran off to get a stretcher and something called a ‘noya’?

When he asked Iwaizumi about what a noya was, he laughed again, holding his side and whining right after. “Oh, don’t make me laugh,” he begged with a huge smile. Despite the bloody teeth and face, that smile was the most beautiful one Oikawa had seen. 

“Noya’s not a thing. Though, that’s still kind of debatable. He’s a person,” Iwaizumi explained, just as Asahi returned with a short man in tactical gear, minus the helmet. He had spectacular hair, Oikawa noted with approval. 

“Hi, Iwaizumi-san!” Noya waved cheerfully before helping Asahi spread out the stretcher. “Is this Oikawa-san?” He nodded towards Oikawa, and without waiting for Iwaizumi’s reply, he pointed at himself proudly. “Hello, Oikawa-san! I’m Nishinoya,” he grinned. 

Oikawa smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, even if it’s under these circumstances.”

Noya laughed brightly. “I guess you’re right! Come on then, let’s get you outta here!” He and Asahi helped Oikawa lie down on the stretcher before lifting him up.

Oikawa panicked for a second when he lost sight of Iwaizumi. He held out a hand towards him, looking at him from above. “Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s smile hadn’t dropped a millimetre. “I’m right behind you,” he assured Oikawa. 

A third man, this one with a helmet in addition to his tactical gear, jogged over and helped Iwaizumi to his feet as Asahi and Noya carried Oikawa to the helicopter. 

There was another stretcher ready in the helicopter. When Iwaizumi limped in with the assistance of the third man (apparently named Tanaka), he sat down and slowly moved to lie on his back with a groan.

Oikawa, laying in the stretcher next to him, looked at him with a blank face. “And what exactly would’ve been so horrible about being carried in?” He sniped. 

Iwaizumi threw him a wry grin. “They’d just keep reminding me about it until I die,” he supposed, trying to find a comfortable position but failing miserably. 

Asahi strapped them in before taking a seat with his back towards the cockpit. Noya and Tanaka were already sitting up front, bickering.

“Why do you get to fly again? It’s my turn!” Tanaka argued. 

Noya stuck his tongue out. “We agreed that we only swap after each job!”

“It’s been your turn since May!” 

“What are you whining about, it’s only August!”

Iwaizumi wordlessly pointed at Asahi’s headset. The tall man handed it over with a questioning look. Iwaizumi put the headset on and cleared his throat. The argument in the cockpit ceased immediately. 

“If you two knuckleheads won’t stop fighting right fucking now, I swear to god I will fly this fucking thing myself.”

“But you can’t fly, Iwaizumi-san!” Noya argued.

“Yeah,” Tanaka agreed readily, “remember when you crashed that Apache? Daichi-san said you aren’t allowed to fly anymore, he was very explicit!” 

“He was, however, somewhat fuzzy on the subject of kicking your asses! Get this fucking thing in the air before I come over there!”

“Sir, yes sir!” Noya and Tanaka chorused, starting the rotors as quick as they could. 

“And stay quiet unless you have something important to say, I’m going to take a fucking nap,” Iwaizumi growled before handing the headset back to Asahi’s gentle care. 

Oikawa was watching him with an amused little smile. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Iwa-chan is so bossy, it’s very sexy,” he purred, his smile going from amused to slightly perverted. 

Much to Asahi’s amazement (and amusement), Iwaizumi didn’t get angry like he usually did. His cheeks were pink, and he looked away from Oikawa. “Shut up, Space Nerd.”

Asahi watched curiously as Oikawa reached out and laced his fingers together with Iwaizumi’s. His curiosity was only amplified when Iwaizumi accepted it without a word, and even gave Oikawa’s hand a light squeeze. 

 

Noya’s voice broke the calm atmosphere. 

“I seriously think we could take him, Ryuu. I mean, his arm’s busted and he’s probably got a concussion. There’s two of us, and we’re in tip-top shape!”

“That is fucking it,” Iwaizumi hissed, starting to open all the belts and straps keeping him on the stretcher.

“I-Iwaizumi-san, stop!” Asahi yelped, hurriedly leaning over and holding him down. “You’ll hurt yourself!”

Iwaizumi struggled against him. “It’ll be worth it, just let me at them!” 

“I will tranquilize you, don’t think I won’t!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, guys! Thanks for reading, drop a comment of kudos if you want! :D


	7. Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of all that's happened, Oikawa thinks he might've forgotten something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this is the last chapter! I just want to say that I'm a) super glad I actually managed to finish a fic instead of abandoning it altogether, and b) ridiculously happy about all the wonderful comments and kudos(es? what's the plural form?)! Thank you all so much!
> 
>  
> 
> Onwards!

“So, here’s what we found out,” Daichi tapped something to his tablet, bringing up information on the larger screen in Iwaizumi’s room.

 

It had been a week since they’d gotten back to base, and since they’d been separated and treated for their injuries. As far as Iwaizumi knew, Oikawa was still in the infirmary, while he’d been allowed to return to his own quarters under strict orders that he was not to move anywhere he didn’t have to. This included leaving his quarters.

Iwaizumi was sitting on the couch, his arm wrapped in a cast and his foot in a brace. A bottle of pills sat on the coffee table in front of him, along with a bottle of water Suga had left. 

Daichi’s assistant had also stopped by to give them an update on the impending trial. They’d be in charge of Oikawa’s safety until the trial in a month, seeing as how ‘they’d managed to keep him alive so far.’ Ennoshita had paraphrased the Police Chief’s words, of course. 

The young, dark-haired assistant had given Iwaizumi one look before leaving to find him a ‘goddamn sandwich.’ Iwaizumi rather liked Ennoshita. 

“Akaashi traced the mole into the police department,” Daichi began, pointing at a face on the television screen. “He was involved in Pierce’s scheming long before Oikawa contacted the police in the first place. After initial contact, he was a part of the team investigating Pierce’s actions, and he was thus able to stall things and keep his real boss in the loop.”

Iwaizumi nodded, motioning for Daichi to continue. 

“Since he was a part of the investigation, he knew when they outsourced Oikawa’s surveillance to us, and he knew that we’d be stationed in the hotel.”

“Which means the mole was the one who sent the huge guy into my room,” Iwaizumi made the connection. “What about the safehouse?”

Daichi took a small device from his pocket and tossed it to Iwaizumi, who caught it easily. “A tracking device. It was planted on your car while it was in the hotel’s garage. We found it when we retrieved your belongings from the safehouse. Nice job wrecking it, by the way,” Daichi raised an eyebrow. 

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Shouldn’t have left me grenades if you didn’t want to remodel. Where was it? I thought I checked the car.” 

He should’ve checked more thoroughly. He fucked up. He could’ve gotten them killed. He would’ve gotten Oikawa killed, and it would’ve all been on him. 

“Listen to me,” Daichi snapped his fingers to get his attention, looking at him seriously. “We didn’t find the tracker until after we’d scanned the entire car. It was under the hood. There was no way you would’ve known to check there, especially since you left in a hurry.” He smiled at Iwaizumi reassuringly. “Don’t blame yourself.

Iwaizumi tried to glare at him, but the grin tugging at his lips was making it hard to look pissed. “You know me too well.”

“Exactly,” Daichi nodded, satisfied with his reaction. “Now then. Pierce and the two men who we caught alive are in custody. The mole’s been taken care of, and he’d well on his way to prison as we speak. What I’d now like to talk about is Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi did his best to keep a straight face. “What about him?” He asked casually as he set the tracking device on the table and grabbed the bottle of water.

Ennoshita came back, with two plates of sandwiches. “Sorry to interrupt,” he greeted as he walked in and set the plates on the table. “I got you some too, boss. Suga-san insisted,” he explained with a knowing smile. 

Daichi rolled his eyes, but sat down in an armchair across the table from Iwaizumi nonetheless. “Thank you, Ennoshita.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” Ennoshita asked, glancing between the two of them. “If not, I have a few errands I’d like to run.”

Daichi waved him off. “We’ll be fine, thank you.”

The young man left, leaving the two with their sandwiches. 

Iwaizumi grabbed one and took a bite. “What were you saying?” He asked around a mouthful.

“When you were debriefed, you mentioned teaching Oikawa some self-defence. Can I ask what that entailed?”

“Shooting with a handgun, mostly. I tried to teach him how to punch, but that was unsuccessful. I taught him how to break free if someone grabbed him, and that went a bit better. That was it,” Iwaizumi listed, watching Daichi for reactions carefully. 

Daichi settled with nodding. “That’s what Oikawa said, as well.”

“Was that a test?” Iwaizumi asked, calmly finishing his sandwich. “Did I pass?”

Daichi frowned disapprovingly. “I’m not accusing you of anything.” 

The agent stared back unwaveringly. “I know. I also know when you’re trying to talk around in circles. Ask me what you really want to know, Daichi.”

“Did anything happen between you and Oikawa?” Daichi tilted his head questioningly.

Iwaizumi held his gaze for a moment before looking at the table. “There was a kiss. A few kisses. Nothing more." 

The older man nodded, leaning back in the chair. “Thank you for being honest. I’m sorry for testing you like this, but I needed to know if there’s anything I should be worried about,” he replied, grabbing a sandwich for himself as well.

Iwaizumi shook his head. “It’s fine, I understand. Are you planning on any disciplinary action?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What? No,” Daichi shook his head quickly. “That’s ridiculous. What matters is that he’s alive, you’re alive, and the bad guy is headed away for a long time.”

Iwaizumi smiled in relief. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he’d been somewhat worried about the prospect of getting punished for possibly falling for someone. 

“Besides, there are cameras in the house. I already know what happened, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

He nearly choked on his water.

 

\--

 

Oikawa stared at the pot on the stove, waiting for the water to boil. He should’ve been thinking of what to make for dinner, but he didn’t really feel like it. He just wanted a cup of tea and a blanket and at least two seasons of the X-files. Some chocolate might not go amiss. 

The trial had been last week. After two months of waiting, he’d finally done what’s right and testified against his former boss. It had been a terrifying but overall relieving experience. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder anymore. He still did, though. 

As he prepared his tea the way he liked it (milk, no sugar), he found himself thinking of a certain dark-haired man. He hadn’t seen Iwaizumi at the trial. Come to think of it, the last time he’d seen the man was right before they’d been separated by Sugawara in the infirmary. Oikawa had stayed in the base until the trial, but he’d seen no hair nor hide from Iwaizumi.

Sugawara had kept him company, and the mysterious ‘Sawamura’ (“Please, call me Daichi”) had also made a few appearances. Those visits had been of the business-variety rather than social. Oikawa had on several occasions asked about Iwaizumi, only to be told that he was recovering in a separate location. 

If he was being punished about something, he didn’t know what. Maybe they knew about him and Iwaizumi? He hadn’t said anything. He’d only told them that Iwaizumi had taught him self-defence. He hadn’t told them about the kiss. Or the groping. Or the sleeping together. Literal sleeping together. Whatever.

Maybe Iwaizumi had been right. Maybe they shouldn’t have done anything like that. 

Maybe… Maybe it wasn’t him that was being punished. Maybe Iwaizumi was stuck in a prison or something! God, he hoped that was not the case. 

Who was he kidding? The case was obvious. He hadn’t seen Iwaizumi in two months. He missed him. He missed him so much it actually hurt. Then again, that might’ve been the scalding cup he was holding instead of setting it down like he should’ve. 

He finally set the cup down with a pained sigh. “Goddammit,” he huffed with a frown. Shit. Now he kind of felt like crying. 

The doorbell’s sudden ringing made him jump. “Who the hell…” he muttered, walking over to the door. He hoped it wasn’t Makki. Or Mattsun. Or the combination of them. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with them.

He checked who it was through the peephole. His eyes widened and his heart leapt into his throat. He opened the door in a daze.

“Hi,” Iwaizumi said with an awkward smile. “Is this a bad time?”

Oikawa shook his head, the initial shock making way for an unexpected need to get this man into his apartment. “No, of course not! Come in!” he stepped aside, opening the door wider to let Iwaizumi in. 

The dark-haired man walked in with only the slightest hint of hesitation. “I, uh, I brought dinner,” he lifted a plastic bag he’d been holding. Oikawa immediately recognised the logo of his favourite Thai food place two blocks away. 

“If you’ve already eaten, that’s fine, you can just put this in the fridge,” Iwaizumi rambled, holding out the bag for him.

Oikawa smiled, taking the bag and closing the door. “I haven’t. Thanks, Iwa-chan. I’ll get us plates, make yourself comfortable,” he replied, nodding towards the couch as he headed towards the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi sat down, looking around Oikawa’s living room. Now that he saw all the dvds and alien paraphernalia up close, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Got a lot of alien stuff here, Space Nerd,” he commented. 

Oikawa returned with the takeout boxes, a pair of plates and utensils. “Shut up, not like you haven’t already seen it,” he grinned, setting the items on the table. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Iwaizumi nodded, helping him set the table. “How’s your leg?” 

“Still sore, but as you can see, I’m okay to walk,” Oikawa held out his recently healed leg proudly. 

Iwaizumi smiled. “That’s good. Suga knows his stuff.”

The younger man came back with two bottles and handed one to Iwaizumi before taking a seat. He opened up the takeout boxes, gasping in surprised delight when he spotted exactly what Iwaizumi had brought.

“Drunken noodles and chicken with cashews? How’d you know this is my favourite?”

Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his head bashfully. “I might’ve asked the owner about what you usually order,” he admitted. 

Oikawa poked him in the side. “If I didn’t know what you did for a living, I might think you’re some creepy stalker,” he teased, grinning happily. 

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi muttered, taking a long sip of beer. 

Oikawa obliged him with a knowing little smile, doling out the food onto their plates. “So, Iwa-chan. Not that it isn’t nice to see you, but why are you here?” He asked, carefully keeping his eyes on the task at hand.

Iwaizumi put the beer on the table, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wanted to see you. I also remembered promising to have a conversation with you.” He looked at Oikawa, watching how his eyes widened a fraction as his movement came to a halt. 

“Is that so?” Oikawa straightened, locking his eyes with Iwaizumi’s. 

Iwaizumi nodded. “I figured I might be able to butter you up with food first, then maybe we could have that conversation,” he smirked.

Oikawa hummed agreeably. “Well, you’re certainly off to a good start, Iwa-chan,” he grabbed a plate and a fork, and dug into the delicious noodles. 

Mulder and Scully investigated another case in the background while they ate and talked about what they’d been up to the past two months. 

Oikawa discovered that while he’d been in the infirmary, Iwaizumi had basically been confined to his quarters. After the trial, Oikawa had been allowed to go back home. Iwaizumi’s confinement had been extended to the rest of the base.

“Suga said he didn’t want me doing any drastic exercises while I was still recovering,” Iwaizumi explained, finishing his chicken and setting his plate down. “They didn’t lift my ban from the training center until yesterday, those assholes,” he muttered, sipping his beer. 

Oikawa shook his head with a smile. “I still don’t get the exercising, Iwa-chan,” he sighed, “have you ever considered yoga?” 

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “Yoga’s not going to help me lift heavy things, you do realize that?” 

“Eh, irrelevant,” Oikawa flicked his wrist dismissively, grabbing the empty dishes and taking them into the kitchen. He grabbed new beers for them while he was there, and came back to Iwaizumi looking at him with a strange expression.

“Iwa-chan?” He tilted his head, frowning. “Something wrong?” He handed Iwaizumi one of the beers.

“Everything’s fine. Wait, no,” he shook his head, turning fully towards Oikawa. “What’s wrong is that I couldn’t get you out of my head for two months. All I did for two months was think about you, and what I would say once I saw you again.”

Oikawa stood frozen to his spot. “I-Iwa-chan—“

“No, I have to say this while I still got the nerve,” Iwaizumi refused his interruption. “During the week we spent together, it didn’t even occur to me that I might fail to protect you. That you might get hurt,” he looked away, picking at the label of his beer. 

“I got comfortable. Then the safehouse was breached, we were attacked outside that stupid store, and they wrecked our car. You weren’t moving, and I swear to god, I think my heart stopped for a moment there. When I felt your pulse, it was the best thing I could’ve hoped for. Even when I had a gun to my head, I heard the helicopter and all I could think was that at least you’d be alive and safe.”

Oikawa listened in shock. He felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. 

Iwaizumi wasn’t finished yet. “Then you came out of nowhere and brained Pierce with a pair of binoculars, of all things!” He chuckled mirthlessly. “You know what I thought? I thought that was the biggest fucking plot twist I had seen in my entire life. Here I am, all packed up and ready to go, and suddenly you’re there going ‘nope, not today’, and that just did it,” He finally looked at Oikawa. “I’m done. So if you still want to—“

“Shut up, shut up,” Oikawa practically jumped at him, throwing his arms around the older man and hugging him tight. “You had me at ‘hello’,” he mumbled into Iwaizumi’s neck.

Iwaizumi had instinctively wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s waist to keep them somewhat balanced. He blinked. “Did… Did you just Jerry Maguire me?”

Oikawa tensed. Iwaizumi began shaking, until he burst out laughing. He held onto Oikawa tighter as he shook with laughter and buried his face onto Oikawa’s shoulder. 

“Stop it, you brute!” Oikawa screeched, smacking Iwaizumi’s back repeatedly. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you said that!” Iwaizumi just couldn’t stop, he was tearing up from laughing so hard. 

Oikawa retaliated by shoving him onto his back. Iwaizumi pulled him along, still helplessly chuckling. 

He finally managed to stifle his laugh and open his eyes. Oikawa was looking at him with such disdain that it set him off again. 

Their beers were on the floor, soaking up the carpet and draining. Neither of them noticed. 

 

 

Much, much later, after they’d relocated to the bedroom, after heated touches and gentle kisses, they laid on the bed with their legs comfortably entwined. Oikawa was lying on Iwaizumi’s chest, tracing random patterns and connecting scars with his fingers. Iwaizumi had one arm around Oikawa’s shoulders, the other resting on the pillow under his head. 

“Oh, hey,” Iwaizumi suddenly said, breaking their comfortable afterglow silence. Oikawa looked up at him, shifting so that his hand was beneath his chin for better visual. “Hmm?”

“Daichi told me to ask you something while I was here. I sort of forgot about it earlier,” he said sheepishly. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes, smiling anyway. “Well, what is it?”

“Quick question first: You’re unemployed right now, right?” Iwaizumi asked, aiming for nonchalance and missing only by a narrow margin.

“Finding a new job hasn’t exactly been on top of my list of priorities lately,” Oikawa deadpanned.

“Right,” Iwaizumi huffed. “Okay. So here’s what Daichi wanted to ask: Oikawa Tooru, would you be interested in acquiring a position in our organisation?”

“Excuse me?” Oikawa sat up with a bewildered look. 

Iwaizumi raised himself on his elbows and shrugged. “That’s what he said. You told Suga about being in nursing school, right?” When Oikawa nodded, Iwaizumi deemed it safe to continue. “Well, since you’ve got some medical training, you’re obviously functional under pressure, and you’re good with computers, Daichi seems to think you’d be a great asset.”

Oikawa blinked, resembling an owl for some reason. “Uh, what?” He replied eloquently.

Iwaizumi sat up properly, pulling his knee up to rest his arm on it. “Here’s our offer: you come work for us as an analyst. What that basically means you’d be analysing data, remote assistance on jobs that require remote surveillance or stuff like that, and, if you want to get certified for field work, you could pretty much do what I do. Except on a slightly smaller scale, of course,” he explained.

Oikawa stared at him blankly. 

“Pros of accepting the offer: you’d get free housing, good pay, healthcare, dental,” Iwaizumi listed, counting on his fingers, “exciting and challenging work environment, expense account, and somewhat tolerable co-workers. It’s really just the field agents you’d need to worry about. And the Evac team. Everyone else is nice and polite,” Iwaizumi said nonchalantly. 

When he noticed how quiet Oikawa had become, his smile faded. “Um, it’s just an offer, really, you don’t have to accept. I know we just… I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you like this,” Iwaizumi backtracked, realizing what a massive tool he was being. Offering him a job right after sex? Really classy. 10 out of 10 would recommend. Way to make him not feel pressured into anything. 

What if this was just a fling to Oikawa after all? Oh, shit. They hadn’t exactly talked about whether they wanted to be together in the romantic/domestic sense, they’d just gone straight for the physical stuff. Which was awesome. But so, so emotionally unhealthy.

“I should probably go,” Iwaizumi finally said, swinging his legs off the bed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve led with that instead of—“

“What are the cons?”

Iwaizumi froze, not having expected a question at this point. “Huh?” He looked over his shoulder and saw Oikawa watching him with a quizzical expression. 

“Pros and cons. They usually go together?” Oikawa asked, moving to sit behind him. “You listed off the pros. What would the cons be?”

Iwaizumi thought about it for a moment. “Well, mortal danger for one,” he stated. “If you’d have clearance for field work, that is. The analysts generally work from base, so there’s not much danger going on there. Other than carpal tunnel.”

“Hmm,” Oikawa hummed, tracing a hand across Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Did I mention the co-workers?” Iwaizumi turned towards him, letting his eyes travel across Oikawa’s body. “Some of them are downright horrible. You’d have to work with me, for example.” 

Oikawa’s hand found Iwaizumi’s, and he entwined their fingers. “That definitely sounds awful. You know what? Maybe I need to sleep on it,” he surmised, pulling Iwaizumi back beneath the covers.

They settled back into their original position, with Oikawa lying on top of Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi’s arm around him. Oikawa rested his head on Iwaizumi’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“You said Daichi seems to think I’d be a good asset,” Oikawa murmured after a moment of comfortable silence. “What do you think?”

Oikawa could hear Iwaizumi’s heart picking up speed. He was about to withdraw his question when he felt Iwaizumi’s arm tighten on his shoulder a bit. 

“I think you’d be great. To be completely honest, I don’t think I’d want you anywhere near some of the places I’ve seen, but I think you’d be able to handle it,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your life, your decision.”

Oikawa smiled. “One more thing, then we can sleep,” he nipped at Iwaizumi’s chest, enjoying the way the muscles twitched beneath him. “Would I have access to your coffee-making abilities on a more or less daily basis?”

Iwaizumi yanked the covers over his head, drowning out his surprised and affronted squeal. “That’s negotiable,” he snickered once Oikawa re-emerged from beneath the covers, glaring at him something fierce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm high-fiving myself for managing to add Ennoshita (that beautiful tropical fish) into this. I love that boy to bits.
> 
> Now then. This is the last chapter, but I've got a teeny-tiny little epilogue to follow-up on this, then I promise I'm done :D  
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one, I swear!

“Of all your stuff, of course it’s the UFO shit that you bring along. You’re such a nerd,” Iwaizumi shook his head, watching as Oikawa unpacked the single box of things he’d packed along with his clothes. 

Oikawa’s smile was wide and bright. “These are collector’s items, Iwa-chan!” He cheered, pulling out some dvds and a weird-looking toy alien. 

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrow, deciding to have a sip of coffee instead of saying something mean. 

Oikawa had officially “moved in” two weeks after Iwaizumi had offered him the job, which Oikawa had accepted the following day. He’d sold his apartment and furniture, and so far managed to successfully evade questions from his friends about the sudden move. 

In a spectacular show of subtlety from Sugawara, Oikawa’s living quarters had been set up across the hall from Iwaizumi’s. The silver-haired man had claimed that it was the only free unit at the moment, aside from the ones that were neighbouring Kuroo and Bokuto’s rooms in the other side of the complex. 

Not that Iwaizumi really minded. 

“Hey, how do you feel about pizza for dinner?” 

He looked up and saw Oikawa looking at him with a cheerful smile. “Pizza?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa smirked, “you know? Flat, roundish food with cheese and tomato sauce, originates from Italy?”

Iwaizumi barely managed to resist the urge to throw the stupid alien-themed mug at Oikawa’s stupid smirking face. “I know what pizza is, Shittykawa,” he muttered instead.

“You’re so rude, but I forgive you because I like you,” Oikawa huffed as a reply, putting the alien plushie onto the bookshelf. “So, pizza? I’m really dying for some pizza right now.”

Iwaizumi watched him arrange a few plushies and dvds methodically. Oikawa looked at the line of plushies for a moment before moving two of them a fraction and nodding to himself afterwards. 

Iwaizumi allowed a fond smile appear on his face, but he hid it behind his coffee cup nonetheless.

“Sure. Pizza sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, that's it! Thanks for reading, and especially thanks for all the kind comments :) 
> 
> I've got another longer fic to this AU in progress, so maybe I'll catch y'all then? ;D

**Author's Note:**

> And we've reached the end of the first chapter! Comments (good AND bad) and/or kudos would be much appreciated, stay tuned for the next chapter!  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
